


A Practical Guide to Escalation

by NotZiz



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata, Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Conquest through Insects, Crossover, Giant Spiders, bad choices, so many spiders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 119,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotZiz/pseuds/NotZiz
Summary: A crossover between Worm and Practical Guide to Evil. It starts with Taylor ending up in Calernia, the world of aPGtE. Where it goes from there, we will have to see. The fic occurs after the Echidna incident in Worm and after Book 2 in aPGtE.  I'm aware that the beginning is rather rough and while there's no current plan to revise it, try to bear with it as it's (unfortunately) largely irrelevant for most of the story.





	1. Prologue

# 

A Practical Guide to Escalation

### Prologue

  
“A basic rule for any practicing mage: always assume it will explode. Or implode. Or open a gaping maw into a lesser hell.”  
-Principles of Basic Arcana and Magecraft, Issue #40  
  
  
Masego looked around the room with a small nod of satisfaction. The circle had taken all night to inscribe to his meticulous requirements, the runes were painstakingly drawn to form a perfectly worded contract, and the forty seven candles of various fats were all burning at just the right heights. It was one of, if not the most, complicated spells he had tried his hand at. Sure, it wasn’t as esoteric and fundamentally foreign as dimensional probing. And yes, it wasn’t as technically difficult as manipulating weather patterns across an entire continent.  
  
But it had finesse. If any one of the many runes were misdrawn or poorly chosen, the contract that bound what he would summon might be turned against him in a moment. If the candles were not quite right, the spell might cast afar and attempt to grab the completely wrong target. And the wards, one couldn’t forget the many and varied wards that protected the outside world from what went on inside his tower. And a few that did the opposite.  
  
Masego did one last look over. And then another.  
  
Three times the wards had been checked, three times the summoning prepared. Three was a powerful number in arcana, due to a number of factors. He had his personal theories on exactly why the Triple-fold Manifesto had failed to explain significant exceptions to the rule like the immunity of Keter’s Due, but he could pursue that in due course. For now, he had a summoning to finish.  
  
Finish was the operative word, since the bulk of the work went into preparation. The actual summoning was a bit disappointing. A small flash of light and heat as matter was displaced and the denizen of his chosen Hell was brought into being. The magical energy given off was much more impressive, albeit mostly invisible in this case. Killian would likely come investigate once she narrowed down the burst of energy enough to be sure of disrupting him with an inquiry.  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
The demon spoke in a peculiar accent. The demon wore peculiar garb. The demon looked like a chitinous hybrid of a spider and a beetle. It stood slightly taller than him, undulating forms shifting beneath the edges of the armor.  
  
Masego nearly had an aneurysm. This was not the demon he had been trying to summon. He wasn’t even sure what demon this was. A million things could go wrong. Were going wrong. The circle might not be calibrated to hold them, the contract might not have all the relevant subclauses. Oh hells, his fathers were going to be pissed when this one got passed down the demon gossip chain.  
  
The demon held a small metal object at him, speaking more aggressively, “Where the fuck am I and who are you?”  
  
It’s voice had taken on a buzzing quality, almost like locust. A demon related to pestilence perhaps? That wasn’t even a multiple of the integers he had used. If he had made a mistake that severe he might as well hang up the Name of Apprentice on the spot. He brought his attention back to what he was questionably classifying as a demon of pestilence. It still stood within the circle, so that was a good sign. He didn’t see or sense significant magical energy from it, which was confusing him greatly.  
  
Masego spoke, voice bounding with magic, “By the contract I writ with you, I require a question, answered fully and truthfully. What are you?”  
  
The demon spoke back, the buzzing louder as it echoed around them, “What am I? You’re the one who teleported me here!” The voice dripped with held back aggression and Masego thanked his earlier precautions for the layers of what had been previously unnecessary wards. Though in magic there was rarely such thing as unnecessary precautions, the practice had a tendency to go wrong. As he was frustratingly being reminded despite being the most magically adept person in a hundred leagues. Things were wrong though, the demon shouldn't have been able to deny a direct request if the contract had formed properly.  
  
A banging at the door announced the arrival of Killian. He paused. The banging was louder than Killian. She must’ve brought Catherine. Well, that was rather fortunate. If the demon ended up causing trouble, Catherine was always a good hand to have working with him. He turned to go towards the door when a loud crack shot through the air.  
  
He whipped around, a protective spell already forming around him. A small piece of metal hovered in the air around the outer edge of the circle. The demon inside was inspecting it from a distance warily. _Did it just try to throw a piece of metal at me? No, it was too loud for a mere throw. A spell perhaps, testing the strength of the circle’s protections. Rapid propulsion of a small object. Likely knew the wards would block direct magical effects, so it’s trying workarounds._  
  
He disarmed the wards on the door from a distance, rather than properly greeting the two as he preferred. It irked at him, but he suddenly was loathe to turn his back upon the summoning circle. He heard the clank of metal upon stone as the Squire, or Catherine, walked into room. Cat was dressed in half plate, seeming to practically live in her armor. He could only imagine how she managed to keep it from smelling terribly with the frequency at which she wore it. Killian came rushing in by her side, eyes darting around methodically, clearly searching for danger.  
  
Masego gave them a lazy wave, “Good evening and fortuitous timing Catherine. This one is rather aggressive and seems to be straining against my protections.”  
  
Catherine gave him a sharp flick of her wrist in disapproval, “Apprentice, what was the first rule I instituted after we took hold of Marchford?”  
  
Masego paled slightly. Answering incorrectly appalled him too much. “A ban on demon summonings.”  
  
Catherine nodded, “And what is _this_?”  
  
She gestured widely to the demon that was regarding them cautiously from the circle.  
  
Masego winced slightly, “A demon inside a summoning circle.”  
  
Catherine exhaled loudly, “So what is it doing in my already demon ravaged city Apprentice? Banish it so I can thoroughly ream your ass over how much the demon summoning ban doesn’t have an exception for you.”  
  
Masego kept at least half his sight on the demon, “That may prove difficult. The summoning did not go as intended and I’m unsure of the proper procedures to banish it safely. I was going to take an hour to get more conclusive data before trying such.”  
  
Killian spoke up, “Wait, you mean you didn’t just do a summoning, but a botched one?” She whistled lowly, “Apprentice, I do not envy your next few hours with Cat.”  
  
“It was most certainly not botched,” Masego corrected instantly. “It merely acquired a different target than intended. I did not summon a nascent eldritch horror to consume the region, I am not some two-bit magician.”  
  
Catherine held a hand up, “Spare me the arcana and just banish it. We have two Named and Killian here, surely you can take a risk and send it away now.”  
  
Masego considered it for a second. There was an increased risk of an improperly executed dispersion spell, but the extra frustration it would cause if he told her no after this debacle was possibly more dangerous. She had proved that her anger did not work itself out in quiet or clean ways. Masego decided the risk was worth it. The spell, even if it failed, wouldn’t break the wards that kept the demon in place. Oh, it might attempt to disperse most of the local area, but none of them were demonic. Well, Killian had Fae blood, so he should make sure that the spell was tuned to not accidentally try and grab her as a substitute.  
  
He prepared the spell and with a short incantation, directed his hands at the summoning circle.  
  
“By the contract I have summoned you with, I banish you back and release the restrictions placed upon you once you have reached your home realm once more.”  
  
...  
  
The demon stood, staring at him. It was not gone. A quick check proved that neither were Catherine or Killian. The candles still burned, the circle still held, and the structural integrity of the tower was maintained. A check of the ambient energy showed they were still in Creation and not sucked into a hell or Arcadia. That meant the spell had gone off as intended. Yet the demon remained.  
  
A nervous voice from his side spoke up, “Uh...Apprentice? When was the last time you cleaned this place? Because that is a lot of bugs.”  
  
Apprentice turned to look where Killian was pointing. The walls were faintly lit and instead of their usual light grey color was a slightly darker, more earthier brown. It was moving. Wriggling.  
  
The demon shifted inside the circle, tentatively pushing a foot against the boundary. The foot slid past cleanly, without resistance, and landed outside the inner edge. The heel scuffing the intricate markings and blurring them into meaningless gibberish.  
  
Masego muttered, “Oh shit.”  
  



	2. 1.1 - Taylor

### 1.1 - Taylor

  
“Frankly, I’m appalled at the capital’s lack of spiders. There’s plenty in the provinces, so why not here? It’s discrimination and I won’t stand for it.”  
-Dread Emperor Tenebrous, shortly before his transformation into a massive spider.  
  
  
“Oh shit is right. I don’t know what kind of capes you are or what the fuck is going on, but if you don’t send me back right now, I will **eat you**.” I growled through the mask.  
  
I was angry. Frankly, I was pissed. I had been pulled out of my city by a bunch of capes, or LARPers, I wasn’t sure which. I didn’t have time for crap like this and while they seemed possibly harmless, or at least incompetent, they also had a cape who could teleport from a distance. That alone made them dangerous in dozens of ways and I didn’t intend to make the mistake of underestimating an unknown team. I was going to intimidate them into reversing their teleport and get back to Brockton Bay. I had just been about to cross through one of the portals into the alternate Earth colony too. I could only imagine how panicked Lisa was at the moment.  
  
The pudgy boy with long decorated dreadlocks looked about halfway to full blown panic and the short girl in plate had drawn her sword, holding it cautiously. The third, a redhead with fire in her eyes as well, was clearly some sort of Blaster the way she stayed behind the other two and held her hands up. Two Blasters and a Brute if I had to guess, though the teleporter could be a grab-bag like Myrridin with his weirdness. A typical setup for a team, one I figured I could take if they didn’t have a quick way to kill my bugs, which they probably did. Probably fire. Again. Their little dialogue had given me time to gather a rather sizable swarm, I was fortunate there had been so many bugs nearby, even some I didn’t recognize.  
  
The girl in plate growled in almost the same manner, “Apprentice? Talk to the demon so it doesn’t try to eat us, hm?”  
  
The boy nodded a bit too quickly, “Ah, right.” He turned towards me, “I tried to send you back just now. It appears to not have worked, for a variety of reasons. I suspect that not knowing your proper origin was the main complicating factor. Which hell are you from?”  
  
Where was I from? What kind of fucked up teleport was this that he didn’t know where he had grabbed me from? Besides the strange accent he was at least speaking English, I couldn’t be in too many places from that alone. Europe perhaps? It didn’t sound like any variation of an American accent. Almost more north African maybe. It was impossible to pin down, I hadn’t exactly been a world traveller.  
  
I clenched my fist, “I’m not from a hell and I’m not a demon either! What kind of joke is this? Is this some Uber and Leet set up? I thought they had better survival instincts than that.”  
  
The trio looked to each other, though careful to not let their eyes off me.  
  
“Uber and Leet?”  
  
“I don’t know either Cat.”  
  
“This, this right here is why I banned demon summonings.”  
  
“I am acutely aware of that at the moment, though I would like to mention that demon summonings have a number of critical uses in magical study-”  
  
“Not the time Apprentice.”  
  
I continued gathering and positioning bugs while they bickered. I had bugs mostly positioned in the mildly lit areas of the walls, with them getting more dense towards the shadows. The shadows themselves were empty, but it gave the illusion that I had much greater numbers. I had a few unknown spiders readying themselves to lower from the ceiling above as a precaution and the slower bugs were making their way around. Grabbing bugs from inside the building was easier than outside, which felt almost murky through my power. Something the wizard did perhaps.  
  
I cleared my throat, “You going to tell me where you’ve teleported me?”  
  
The girl answered this time, “You’re in the Empire.”  
  
_Ah, great. Highly specific answers, so helpful._  
  
I rolled my eyes behind the mask, “Which Empire? Empire 88?” Unlikely I noted, since the girl in plate had a rather dark complexion.  
  
She held the sword pointed at me cautiously. I eyed it up, it looked unusual. No glowing or obvious signs, but the metal had an odd sheen to it and it was clearly custom-wrought. Maybe tinkertech or some sort of secondary power that she used through it. I’d be careful to avoid it then rather than risk a hit.  
  
She redoubled, insisting annoyedly,“No, THE Empire.”  
  
I huffed, “That doesn’t tell me anything.”  
  
The redhead in the back clarified, “The Dread Empire of Praes.”  
  
What kind of name was The Dread Empire of Praes? It sounded like something out of a poorly written fantasy novel, full of cliche and made-up words. It certainly wasn’t a country, I would’ve heard of that happening.  
  
There was a silence and I tilted my head, “Is that a gang? Which country is it in?”  
  
The redhead looked to the man, the Apprentice, “Gods below Apprentice, what exactly did you summon?”  
  
The shorter girl cut them off before they could start again, “The Dread Empire _is_ a country. It’s one of the main powers of Calernia. South of the Golden Bloom, north of the Free Cities. Former Kingdom of Callow? Any of this ringing a bell?”  
  
I paused, stunned. Calernia? Golden Bloom? Free Cities? It was sounding more and more like a fantasy book by the moment. Did passing through the portal send me to some strange alternate Earth that never bypassed the medieval age or something? It was too much strangeness in one go. Clenching my teeth, I tried to collect my thoughts. _I just need to get the hell out of here so I can get back to somewhere recognizable._  
  
I shook my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
She furrowed her brow, “And you’re not a demon?”  
  
I shook my head once more, “Completely human.”  
  
The redhead pointed to my face, “So that’s a mask then.”  
  
I nodded, “Yeah. Don’t you have any?”  
  
That they were all unmasked had originally led me to believe they weren’t capes, except that they clearly had powers. Apprentice did at least, since he could teleport me with nothing but candles and some chalk markings.  
  
There was a shaking of heads and the one in plate turned to the Apprentice, “Congratulations Masego, you’ve somehow managed to teleport a named from gods knows where instead of summoning a demon.”  
  
The Apprentice turned towards her and babbled out, “That’s not how magic works. A summoning can’t simply become a teleport by accident. I was attempting to summon a creature that exists in an entirely different plane to ours, it requires finesse and precision. It can’t just grab someone else. At worst it should’ve fizzled or grabbed a different demon. This goes beyond all possible side effects or complications.”  
  
The girl jabbed a thumb at me, “Well she says she’s human, and I don’t recall demons being this talkative or stand-offish.”  
  
I interrupted, “I _am_ human.”  
  
“You heard her.”  
  
Apprentice pinched his temples, “Well the spell thought she was a demon, that’s for certain. If she’s named, it must be a rather demonic one. Certainly the insects support that theory.” He turned towards me, “What’s your name?”  
  
I spoke slowly, “Skitter.”  
  
There was a look of consternation, “That’s not a known name. It also doesn’t fit typical name conventions. Where are you from?”  
  
_Not a known name? I know I’m not famous, but he’s talking as if he should know my name. This place gets weirder by the minute. At least I don’t think they’re trying to kidnap or kill me at this point. Still keeping the spiders above them though._  
  
“Brockton Bay, and if you could send me back, I have a feeling we’d all be happier for it.” I felt the interior of the building being mapped out by my bugs. Several floors, though the uppermost one was incomplete from the half built walls. It was a round shaped building, probably a tower. The chance that I was in some sort of medieval Earth with capes thinking they were wizards was increasing by the moment. I didn’t exactly rate that possibility as one of my favorites either.  
  
The Apprentice frowned, “And that’s a country?”  
  
“A city,” I sighed. “It’s in the United States of America. North America. Earth Bet. Any of that tell you how to send me back?”  
  
There was a quick exchange of looks and shakes of heads that I was quickly becoming familiar with as the sign that they were all equally confused. I was also confused, but I didn’t have anyone to double check with. It was almost a shame they didn’t manage to grab Tattletale as well, she’d have been able to piece together what was going on.  
  
The girl in plate sheathed her sword and rubbed her fingers to her temples, “Right, this is going nowhere.” She gestured towards the walls, “How ‘bout, you call off the swarm of face-eating bugs, we sit down, and talk this out over dinner?”  
  
I hesitated. The offer sounded better than the current stand-off. As much as I thought I could take them, my chances got worse with each piece of info I learned. Even if I beat them, I had no idea where I was or how to get home. No resources, no plan, it was a losing proposition. I didn’t trust them, but they seemed more bumbling than malicious, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen that cause some pretty severe screw-ups.  
  
I dispersed the bulk of the swarm to the level above us, keeping it ready and keeping a small ambient swarm around myself. “Fine.”  
  
The girl clapped her hands together with a resounding smack, “Great. Bet she’s a villain, heroes never agree to just sit down and talk it out.”  
  
I tilted my head slightly as I walked out of the rest of the circle, “You have heroes and villains too?”  
  
The other three paused, the redhead spoke out to me, “An hadyth farbi?”  
  
I stopped, “What?”  
  
The girl in plate replied, “Sha?”


	3. 1.2 - Catherine

### 1.2 - Catherine

  
“The Villain always ends up secretly being the Hero’s father, which is why all my children are known to the entire Empire by public decree, especially the illegitimate ones.”  
-Dread Emperor Paternus the First  
  
  
I palmed my forehead for the third time in as many minutes. The communication breakdown had been apparently caused by Skitter leaving the entirety of the circle, which had a translation spell built in. They had put her back inside, only to find it didn’t work anymore because she had scuffed the markings on her way out. _That_ had led to a five minute ordeal of Apprentice trying out various translation spells before one worked and was permanently bound to her. Because of course it couldn’t be easy.  
  
After a few minutes of awkwardly stilted conversation, they were seated a long table with a lukewarm dinner in front of them. More was being brought out to accommodate the increased number of dinners. Fresh and piping hot too, I bitterly noted. I could’ve sent mine back to be replaced with one as well, but that just radiated opulence and waste. I certainly didn’t need to accidentally pick up a Role of being a shallow and wasteful ruler while I was still setting precedents. That kind of thing got said ruler knifed in the middle of a lavish banquet while the city starved. _Good times_, I thought to myself at the memory. I had come a long way since then.  
  
As the last of my command staff sat down, I started to speak, “Thanks for coming on short notice everyone. Here’s what we’ve got: Apprentice botched a demon summoning-”  
  
“Botched is an inaccurate word for-”  
  
I raised my voice over him, “_Botched_ a demon summoning, and instead we have a Named guest from an unknown land. Everyone, this is Skitter. Skitter says she is from Brockton Bay, in a land entirely unknown to us.”  
  
I gestured to the armored figure across the table. She cut quite the intimidating figure with just how still she was at all times, the way she responded without looking at people, and, of course, the general cloud of flying death that surrounded her. Also the whole buzzing echo when she spoke thing. Really, why did I never get the normal ones? I had the first orc Named in hundreds of years, a weird goblin-orc love triangle in my command staff, and my mage captain was a quarter Fae. So of course when Masego summoned a Named he didn’t grab someone easy and simple like Thief. No, he grabbed Skitter, _which wasn’t even a proper Name._  
  
I started down the table, “Skitter, this is my command staff.”  
  
“Hakram, the Adjutant.” I gestured to the orc, who had taken a seat by my side and waited stoically. The greenskin was a bastion of calmness, which I desperately needed most of the time. It would’ve felt wrong to not have him at my side by this point.  
  
“Masego, the Apprentice, who you’ve met.”  
  
“Whom.” Corrected Masego. He was still a bit pudgy despite the work out he’d been getting recently as an impromptu battle mage. The dreadlocks he wore contained a number of ornaments, most of which I suspected were magical trinkets.  
  
“Killian, senior mage of the Fifteenth Legion.” I introduced her right as she was trying to sneak a bite of food in before all the plates were out. The redhead hid the fork quickly, her blush blending into her rosy complexion and red hair.  
  
“Juniper, general of the Fifteenth.” She was the other orc in attendance. She looked prepared as ever. If I knew her, right now she was figuring out how to handle putting down the person in the room who could bring a veritable plague down on a company on soldiers.  
  
“Aisha, my staff tribune.” The Taghreb inclined her head at the exact angle of showing just enough respect to be polite, but not a bit more. Not as if Skitter would know of the many minutia of Taghrebi politics, body language, and slights.  
  
Although, really, most of their customs could be summed up as ways to slight people while also preparing to backstab them. She wasn’t missing out on much.  
  
“And lastly, Pickler, senior sapper of the Fifteenth.” The goblin grinned widely, showing off her very pointy teeth. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to intimidate Skitter or flirt with her. Goblins still confused me half the time, but her engineering work more than made up for any trouble she caused.  
  
Aisha spoke up, “And the one who forgot to introduce herself is Catherine Foundling, the Squire and Lady of Marchford, the city we are currently in.” Ah, right. I hadn’t actually introduced myself, had I? And I thought I was getting better at the whole introductions and banter bit too. They really needed lessons for new villains on that kind of thing.  
  
Skitter took a second before replying in that grating cacophony of chittering, “...I see. I’d say nice to meet you all, but I’d rather still be home.”  
  
My command staff was nothing short of stoic at this point. Or suffering from sort of PTSD. Not one of them flinched at the swarm voice. Probably from having faced some hundred plus devils and a demon over the last few months. Actually, on that thought, maybe I should give them a bit of leave. They had gone through a lot in the short life of the newly formed Fifteenth Legion already.  
  
Apprentice spoke up, “That may prove difficult. Since the prepared return spell failed, it means that I’ll have to calibrate the coordinates for return from scratch. Additionally, if I don’t figure out what went wrong in the first place, you could very well be sent back incorrectly. It’s not impossible to send you back, but it may take some time.”  
  
Juniper added sternly, “We also have the issue of the Winter Court. While they haven’t been spotted since the initial foray, we can’t count on that forever. Apprentice is the only one knowledgeable enough to close the thinning.”  
  
Skitter buzzed angrily, “So? As far as I can see, that’s your problem. It’s your fault for bringing me here.” She paused, “And, by Winter Court do you mean Fae?”  
  
Apprentice perked up, “You know about the Fae?”  
  
She shook her head, “They show up in some old myths and stories, but they aren’t real- well, they weren’t real where I’m from.”  
  
Apprentice practically was leaning over the table, “And do you remember much of those stories? Comparing mythos of two completely separate worlds would have vast implications for theories on Creation-”  
  
I put a hand on Masego’s shoulder, “Down boy, you can ask her about all sorts of magical minutiae later.”  
  
“Assuming she wants to answer, I don’t think even Apprentice wants to fight a giant sentient swarm,” chuckled Pickler.  
  
“It’s easier when you aren’t small enough to be mistaken for part of it.” Apprentice retorted drily.  
  
Skitter spoke up before a snipping argument could break out, “I remember plenty of things. But if I help you, I want you to focus on my problem first. I don’t have forever, I need to get back to my city.”  
  
Aisha raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Your city? Are you also a Lady like Squire where you come from?”  
  
Skitter paused, the swarm somehow sounding uncertain. _How the hells does a swarm of bugs sound uncertain?_  
  
“Not entirely. It’s not legal exactly...the local government and I have an understanding and there’s no other villains strong enough anymore to contest us, so we’re in charge by default. Didn’t really mean for it turn out that way.”  
  
Pickler jumped in her seat, “Can we keep her?”  
  
Hakram chuckled, “Aye, she’s just like you Cat.”  
  
I turned on my traitorous command staff. “What? How?”  
  
Even Juniper was chiming in, “Well, it sounds like she was a villain and managed to eliminate all her competition and accidentally ended up ruling a city. Pretty much exactly describes how you wound up in charge of Marchford.”  
  
Apprentice groaned to himself, “Oh gods below, I’ve summoned a second Squire.”  
  
Every single one of them was being written up for insubordination later.  
  
Hakram put his necromantic construct of a hand comfortingly on Masego’s shoulder, “There there Apprentice. The gods below probably would thank you for taking her off their hands if she’s as much trouble as ours is.” Apprentice didn’t look overly comforted by the words or the skeletal hand. Hakram was going to be written up twice for that. Which was always amusing since it was his desk that those reports ended up at.  
  
I rolled my eyes, “Adjutant, if you’re so certain of that, you can lead the expedition into Arcadia and see exactly what the other realms of Creation think of me.”  
  
I cleared my throat, changing the subject.  
  
“Now, enough side-tracking. Skitter, Apprentice will work on finding you a way home. In the meantime, we need to figure out what you’ll be doing. A Name like yours isn’t subtle, it’ll draw attention if you go into the city with a swarm.”  
  
She corrected me as her small accompaniment dispersed itself, “I don’t have to bring them with me. At least not where anyone will see them.” She tugged at her chitinous armor, “And this is a costume, it comes off.”  
  
I heard Hakram give a low whistle under his breath. He had realized the same thing I did. Someone that could control insects, not only directly as a swarm, but while hiding in plain sight was immensely powerful. She wouldn’t be killing Warlock anytime soon like that, but she could devastate a city by herself and no one would even know who she was. A swarm ravaging the countryside could affect logistics for a country if she had enough time to destroy crops. It was a versatile Name for certain.  
  
I steepled my fingers and then unsteepled them. Bad habit to look like a scheming villain when I was scheming. “Well that makes hiding you easier at least. I don’t know how the rest of the Empire would react, but I think it’s best we keep your presence low-key until I’ve had a chance to speak with Black. I don’t know if there’s any sort of law about this kind of thing.”  
  
Aisha and Juniper shook their heads simultaneously. Juniper let Aisha speak, “Strictly speaking, there isn’t. The Tower has plenty of laws regarding demon summoning, but seeing as she isn’t a demon or possibly even from Creation proper, there isn’t any legal precedent around her. There are laws regarding summonings which don’t fall under other laws, but since it happened inside Apprentice’s mage tower, it falls outside their jurisdiction. It would still be best to inform the Black Knight, however. It could be perceived as a prelude to rebellion by the Dread Empress to be secretly accumulating Named.”  
  
Right, we didn’t want Dread Empress Malicia annoyed at us. Granted she had been the one to let me unilaterally accumulate so much unregulated power, but abusing her goodwill was definitely a bad idea. Besides, I wasn’t aiming for a rebellion. Yet, at least. Getting in contact with Black was probably the best idea we had at the moment. He might even be able to get us help from Warlock, though he was just as likely to see this as a learning experience to let us sort out ourselves.  
  
“Right. So technically I could conscript you into the Fifteenth, and you’d have all the legal standings of any legion conscript.”  
  
Skitter shook her head, “No, I won’t be joining your legion or whatever it is.”  
  
I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Of course not. Well, you’re free to stay here until Apprentice can find a way to send you back. We’ll have a room prepared. You can come and go as you please, since I don't particularly want to be attacked by a wave of spiders. I’d suggest keeping a low profile until we talk to Black at least, so we know if there’s any reason someone would try to assassinate you. That sound good?”  
  
She nodded. Damn she was hard to read though. “Yeah. I suppose it’ll have to be.” She said almost resignedly.  
  
Pickler picked up her fork, completely wrong but at least she was using something other than the knife for once. “Great, now that the boring stuff is out of the way, let’s eat and talk about the actual important stuff.”  
  
The goblin pointed the fork at Skitter, “So, what kind of engineering does your place have?”


	4. 1.3 - Taylor

### 1.3 - Taylor

  
  
“Most Legions would’ve balked at a nigh unstoppable swarm of bugs coming down around them in the middle of battle. For the Fifteenth, we knew better than to be afraid, because generally in any given fight we’re the scariest motherfuckers on the field. It was still a welcome surprise when the swarm turned out to be on our side.”  
-Memoirs of the Fifteenth Legion, author unknown  
  
  
I picked my way through the building as the talking continued around me. I was mapping out the area within my range pretty thoroughly. Some of the bugs in my power were still a bit of a mysterious. A few were clearly venomous, but I wasn’t sure how dangerous they were without stinging something. My swarm hid within the walls, ready if I needed them.  
  
Pickler turned towards Catherine, “Squire, permission to-”  
  
The Squire cut her off with a groan, “Permission to form a scouting party for Earth Bet denied, Senior Sapper Pickler.”  
  
The goblin practically danced in her seat, “But, but Lady Foundling! Firearms! And planes! And rockets! And tanks! You can’t dangle things like that in front of a self-respecting goblin and tell her no!”  
  
The Squire picked a bit of meat out of her teeth, “That’s most of my job in fact, when I’m not dealing with someone setting hellspawn on half the cities in Callow.”  
  
“Catherine, if I might?” Juniper asked, receiving a nod of the head from Catherine. “While Pickler is essentially proposing a suicide mission, even a shred of the technology she speaks of would give us an immeasurable advantage. It also would fit with legion doctrine surprisingly well.”  
  
I piped up, having gotten a bit of a sense of how things worked over the last twenty minutes. “Not surprising. It sounds like your legions are the early stages of what we consider modern military doctrine. Everything being replaceable and interchangeable and standard and all that. The military drives a lot of innovation, or did before Tinkers, so most modern technology fits with that idea.”  
  
Catherine held up a finger, “As much as I’d love to be able to rain death on our enemies from afar without tiring our mages out, do you know why I’m saying no?”  
  
There was a pause at the table, broken by Apprentice, “A red letter.”  
  
The Squire nodded, “A red letter. The Empire has received two already this century. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t particularly want to find out if that legend is true.”  
  
There was a sudden somberness to the room and I raised my voice, “Red letters?”  
  
The general spoke to answer me, “Whenever a country or city or faction advances too far into certain technologies, they receive a red letter. The only known instance of receiving three red letters led to the city being bombarded into oblivion by a fleet of airships that were completely immune to their defenses. The Empire has received two this century, which has put a halt on most research.”  
  
I frowned a bit inside the mask, which I occasionally lifted to sneak food under. “And you can’t just use magic to shoot them down? That sounds rather tyrannical.”  
  
Pickler shook her head quickly, “The gnomes from the legend were far beyond anything we have now. Given that they’ve had a few centuries, no idea if we’d even see them coming. Probably not. Dread Empress Triumphant might’ve been able to give them a fight, but…”  
  
“May she never return,” was uttered in tandem from half the officers at the table, as they each pressed a knuckle to their forehead.  
  
I tilted my head a bit, but left that one for later. There were enough strange things that I had questions about, I didn’t need to delve into every little bit of fucked up history that this place had. It would take me years, given how many centuries of history I’d already heard referenced. Apparently the Dread Empire of Praes, _I still can’t believe that’s the real name_, had existed for hundreds of years and was usually led by a Dread Emperor or Empress.  
  
It had truly risen to power with Dread Empress Triumphant, who had set the precedent going forward. The Empire was cliched evil, with everything from flying fortresses to Legions of Terror, the official name, to a tower containing the souls of the damned. It was also generally quite ineffective due to the constant backstabbing, experiments gone awry, and general craziness up until a few decades ago. Suddenly a group called the Calamities, who seemed equivalent to our Triumvirate, supported Dread Empress Malacia’s bid for power, she took the throne, and the Empire waged a successful war against it’s equal sized neighbor, the Kingdom of Callow. Callow was now occupied for a couple decades, with the Squire being the first Callowan to be in charge since the occupation.  
  
I didn’t have much more information than that general outline though, as my introduction had been repeatedly interrupted by the little goblin. She was almost certainly this world’s equivalent to a Tinker. Anything technology related caught her interest and she didn’t let go without being shoved away from the subject and then locked in an adjacent building. I was also right about this world being roughly medieval in equivalent.  
  
They hadn’t reached firearms yet and practically anything I was carrying on me was centuries ahead of them. Now I knew why too.  
  
Apparently gnomes in planes came and bombed the hell out of anyone who started to catch up.  
  
_This place..._  
  
Not something that I was practically happy about, but I didn’t have the time, resources, or desire to take on a race of gnomes that had access to technology centuries ahead of the nation I was stuck in. Bullies that they might be, I couldn’t really take them down with my bugs. Had I gotten a power like Lung’s I could’ve stood defiant, but I was limited to more mundane tactics than becoming a giant dragon. I had the feeling if I proposed the idea of transforming into a giant dragon to the table it would’ve had majority support. _Which is another reason I need to get the hell out of this crazy world and back home._  
  
My inner thoughts were interrupted by a question directed at me that I didn’t catch.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Pickler was standing on her feet on the chair to better see over the food, “What about something small? The gnomes can’t see everywhere, especially not if Apprentice wards it.”  
  
I thinned my lips behind the mask, “I don’t particularly like the idea of getting bombed because I leaked tech to you guys.”  
  
Aisha let out an exasperated sigh, “Finally! Someone who sees reason.”  
  
Catherine was watching the entire exchange with clear amusement, despite the various frustrated parties.  
  
The orc general spoke again, “You said that your technology is several centuries ahead of ours. What about something old to you, but new to us? If we could fabricate it as a small, but natural advancement, it might slip by.”  
  
“Hmm, well firearms are out of the question. If you haven’t developed them by now, it’s probably because these gnomes are stopping it,” I thought aloud. “I’ll have to think about it. I wasn’t really a history buff.”  
  
There was a round of frowns at my vetoing of firearms, but it was for the better I thought. That said, I’d have to conserve my ammunition pretty carefully since I was likely to get any spares any time soon. Maybe I could trade Pickler some knowledge for some bullets, if they had the metalworking to make that kind of thing. That probably wouldn’t piss the gnomes off, right?  
  
_God, the fact that I have to even consider that seriously..._I groaned to myself as I tried to shovel another forkful of food under the mask. It was awkward, giving me barely any room for sizable portions, but I certainly wasn’t unmasking. My mask gave me a last resort. I could get some average clothes, unmask, and be completely unfindable in a crowd if things turned sour. I didn’t envy the thought of being stuck here like that, but I also wasn’t going to just throw my lot in wholesale with these guys. It was the same reason why I didn’t remove the carefully positioned spiders I had been placing. I had almost all the staff in the building accounted for by now and most of the surrounding guards.  
  
“So, why not just remove the mask? Seems a lot easier than eating with it on.” Catherine pointed out idly from across the table.  
  
“Capes don’t tend to unmask in public. It protects our identities.” I said over a mouthful of vegetables. The food was surprisingly good, a mixture of some sort of meat that certainly tasted like chicken and some root vegetables. _Tastes like chicken, but do chickens even exist here?_  
  
“You’ve said that word before,” Apprentice spoke up. “Capes. Is that your name for people with names?”  
  
I swallowed my food, “Well, everyone has names. I have a real name, but my cape name is Skitter. Capes are parahumans, anyone with powers.”  
  
Catherine shook her head as she put her fork down, “There’s a difference between a name and a Name. If some boy asks a mage or blacksmith to teach him the craft, he’s an apprentice. Masego, on the other hand is the Apprentice. Names grant the bearer aspects related to their interpretation of the Name.”  
  
“Such as with Squire. One of Catherine’s aspects was Learn, which fit her role as a young, unskilled protege to an older, more experienced knight. She could learn at a preternatural speed because of it,” Apprentice filled in, clearly more interested in the conversation again. “Each Named has three aspects they can unlock. They tend to vary from bearer to bearer of the same Name, but all fit within a theme. You wouldn’t have a Squire get Conquer as an aspect, because it implies leadership when Squire is an inherently transitional Name.”  
  
“I assume Apprentice is as well?” I asked, feeling it was obvious enough.  
  
Apprentice waved it off, “Naturally. Squire can transition to Black or White Knight-”  
  
There was a heavy snort from Hakram and Catherine interrupted, “We know which one I’m headed for.”  
  
He barrelled on, irritated by the interruption, “-and Apprentice can transition to Warlock, for example. My father is the current Warlock, and Catherine’s mentor is the current Black Knight. Does that bear any resemblance to how Capes work?” Apprentice clearly capitalized capes and I sighed slightly. It was like the cultural exchange program I had never signed up for. Also with villains and genocidal gnomes.  
  
...fucking gnomes for God’s sake.  
  
“Not really, no. Powers don’t transition and only one person has one power. Powers haven’t really been around long enough to see if someone can get the same power as someone after they died. At least, I don’t remember any. There’s a few capes who can steal powers, like Glaistig Uaine, but they’re the exception.” I rambled, not really sure where to start with such a broad topic.  
  
“Do they follow themes then?” Apprentice asked, having entirely forgotten his meal.  
  
I shook my hand from side to side, “Kind of? There’s broad themes like Blaster powers, which generally are powers that let you fire something from a distance, but capes can have multiple classifications, or themes, and the borders aren’t that well defined. The strongest cape is Eidolon, who can hold onto three powers at a time and swap them out as needed. Any three powers.”  
  
There was a pause around the table before Catherine spat out, “That’s such bullshit!”  
  
“Squire, requesting permission to-”  
“Catherine, do you think study on the thinning can wait-”  
“What exactly are the limits of _your_ powers-”  
“The tactical implications of even a single cape would-”  
“Pickler for the last time-"  
“The tactical implications? How mundane, the implications for magic-”  
  
The table devolved into a half dozen different, equally fervent discussions. Impressive considering there were only a half dozen people at the table, which meant everyone was fielding at least two conversations. I sat there and picked at my food. I hadn’t been particularly hungry when I came through, but no sense in being wasteful of good food.  
  
I watched as they argued with each other, it was good-humored, but intense. _Maybe I shouldn’t tell them about Tinkers._


	5. 1.4 - Catherine

### 1.4 - Catherine

  
"Turns out iron doesn't ruin the taste of Fae flesh, but it tastes like spoiled pig regardless. The only use Fae have in orc cuisine is as a gift to your slowest raider."  
-Explorations of Orcish Culture, Volume II  
  
I sighed and leaned back heavily in my chair. It had been a very, very long day. I had throttled down the urge to, well, throttle Masego to a pretty tolerable level.  
  
I trusted him almost entirely when it came to magic.  
  
While I wasn’t thrilled with his foray into summoning, I also wasn’t about to assume it was some hare-brained idiocy. Oh, we’d be having a talk after this meeting, but frankly I wasn’t sure Masego even could be idiotic if he tried.  
  
And, besides, arguing with your evil partner in front of some strange outsider who saw themselves as being kidnapped? That was just asking for one of us to get taken out mid-argument by said captive, who then proceeds to pull off a daring escape and join the side of Good. No, after what I had learned from Black I was more wary than ever about that sortof thing.  
  
My command staff sat at the table around me, Ratface and Nauk had joined us after the dinner. The plates had been taken away some time ago and only drinks remained. Skitter had been shown to her room when it had become clear that she was willing to share, but only vaguely and not about herself too much. There wasn’t much sense in pressing the issue just now.  
  
I looked to my friends, “So, I imagine you’re all wondering what we are going to do.”  
  
There was a round of nods. Juniper was listening intently as I would expect and Aisha looked around concerned. I gestured to her, “Aisha?”  
  
She bit her lip lightly and spoke, “We should have Apprentice put up some protection from eavesdropping, should we not? We don’t know exactly what Skitter can do.”  
  
I shook my head even as there were looks of agreement, “No, in fact I have no plans to take any extra precautions than we normally do.”  
  
Apprentice chimed in, indulging me by stating the obvious, “This must be a part of your plan then.”  
  
“Masego is correct,” I sipped the wine, usually a luxury, but it had been a trying day, “Imagine this: A group of scary new villains rises to power. They meddle with forces beyond their understanding and summon an even scarier outsider. In the heart of their territory, they’re destroyed by the outsider, who’s a newer bigger threat.”  
  
Ratface muttered from the back of the group, “Ah, shiiiit.”  
  
I continued, “Are you familiar with the Heroic Axioms?”  
  
Juniper nodded, “A series of axioms dictating ideal heroic behavior and anti-villain measures.”  
  
There was a look of surprise from Ratface, Nauk and Pickler.  
  
“Know thine enemy,” Juniper replied simply.  
  
See, this is why I liked Juniper. I knew she was a better strategist than I was, so anything I took into account I could be certain she had thought of as well. It made working with her easy since she’d already know most of what I was thinking and let me trust her to have my back. Being an orc meant she wasn’t squeamish, she just gave a throaty sound of agreement when I wanted to go out and kill things.  
  
“Exactly. There’s one about being kind to monsters in cages, as they’ll inevitably get out and side with the hero. The last thing we need is to piss off some powerful outsider who can either turn this into an invasion story or a heroic return home. Apprentice will help her as much as he can, she’s allowed to go and do whatever she wants as long as it doesn’t mess with our plans too much, and we’re **certainly** not holding secret meetings the hour after she goes to bed, in which we plot out countermeasures against her.”  
  
I gestured to the walls, “If she can overhear us, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. There’s no one she can leak the information to, because no one even knows she exists yet. Later, if it becomes a risk, we can change that. Treat her like any other civilian. I fully expect Juniper and Pickler will come up with countermeasures anyway because they do that for everyone we meet-”  
  
Juniper and Pickler both gave approving looks.  
  
“-but we are going to be honest and helpful, not just because of the threat she poses, but because it’s our damn fault that she’s here. We’re Evil, not assholes, got it?”  
  
My command staff all gave various motions of agreement. They weren’t stupid, I saw on their faces the quick realization of our predicament as I had been talking. We had blundered right into a potentially dangerous situation. Not because of Skitter, but rather because of the context around her. Skitter was still a potential enemy and a powerful one at that, but the moment we fell into the pattern of villains before us we were done for.  
  
And really, we weren’t out to be cackling villains who delighted in stealing people away from their homes. I would’ve felt worse for her if she hadn’t been so creepy and hard to read, but I still felt pretty bad for her.  
  
“Alright. Anything else?”  
  
Aisha shook her head, “No new developments since the meeting earlier. I don’t suspect we’ll have any for a few days.”  
  
“The Winter Court is still keeping quiet.” Nauk said with a roll of his shoulders. “Some of the fresh blood keep saying it’s getting colder, but that’s all hot air.”  
  
“If it was hot air, then wouldn’t they be getting warmer?” Apprentice said with a deadpan face that I knew was hiding an inner smirk.  
  
Nauk waved his hand around, “Hot air, weak knees, whatever. We’ll be ready when they decide to stop hiding with their tail between their legs and hit us.”  
  
Well, it was nice to see Nauk wasn’t letting the uncertainty of the situation get to him. He had a tendency to be a bit more impatient than most of my officers and I had been a bit worried he’d be frustrated by the waiting game. Maybe Juniper had given him fortifications to build or maybe he’d just developed a sense of tact to go along with his sense of tactics. I was hoping Masego would be able to whip something up to let us take the fight to the Fae, but I couldn’t rely on that now that Skitter would be taking up his time.  
  
“I’ll scry my father and ask him about Skitter, he may know something.” Apprentice added.  
  
“Right, and I’ll try to get in contact with Black. We weren’t supposed to talk today, but I think he’d want to know about this.” We were both directly mentored by one of the Calamities, if anyone living on this side of Calernia would have advice, it would be one of those two.  
  
Somehow I had the feeling Black would’ve told me if this had ever happened to him. It was one of those stories that would’ve been both funny and educating, which he seemed to enjoy the most. Only just a bit more than the ones where he suddenly got serious and scared the ever-loving crap out of me.  
  
“Ratface, Hakram, see if you can dig anything up about strangers from outside Creation. Old stories, myths, drunk ramblings of a beggar, I’ll take anything right now.”  
  
Ratface grinned, “I’ll ask around and see what I can dig up.”  
  
Hakram frowned slightly, “Nothing in our stock has anything about that, I’ll have to request a special shipment of books from Ater.”  
  
I waved him off, “Do it, take whatever coin you need for it. I hate going in blind when it comes to other-wordly creatures.”  
  
Aisha quickly cut in, “Catherine, you don’t have the coin to fund another personal project.”  
  
“Right. Godsdamnit, I know, I know.” I put my hand to my forehead, covering an eye.  
  
She was right of course. Marchford had been bleeding money since it had been made my responsibility and my personal coffers were only going to be able to prop it up for so long. Sure, it would recover given time, but that was more time than I had money to cover for. Alternate sources of income weren’t terribly forthcoming either. Probably Heiress’ hand in that as well. Maybe Robber would get orders to burn down something she liked soon.  
  
It was just yet another time where my being peasant born was used against me. I didn’t have the connections or knowledge of how to run a city. Black had done his best to tutor me, of course, but it wasn’t enough.  
  
Aisha was running herself ragged trying to find ways we could pull income into a war ravaged city with an active Fae incursion. Ratface was managing to make a lot more coin than he had any right to as someone who’s position typically spent money. But in the end, I was a lowly orphan ruling a city and none of the Truebloods wanted to play nice with me, which meant no trade treaties, no preferential routes, none of the usual back-scratching that cities ran on.  
  
It made me a little happy, in a bitter way. I didn’t _want_ the nobles having their claws in Callow anymore. I wanted them out, so that Callow wouldn’t be a golden goose for their parasitic practices. But they weren’t happy with that and were doing their best to strangle the goose before I could resuscitate it.  
  
I frowned a bit at the metaphor. It had been stretched a bit far there at the end.  
  
Kind of like my coin.  
  
The idea hit me and I stood up. My officers switched from ironing out things between each other to looking at me. I gave them a smile and Nauk started to laugh.  
  
“Oh no, she’s got the face…” Ratface muttered.  
  
I turned on him, “No one’s still explained exactly what ‘that face’ is.”  
  
Hakram grinned, “It’s the face you have when you’ve come up a plan.”  
  
“No, not just a plan,” Ratface clarified. “It’s the face you get when you come up with some idea that’ll add a new line to Legion doctrine because of how fucked up it is. Like the exploding goats. And the goblinfire. Might as well lay it on us.” He said with feigned resignation, barely hiding the smile.  
  
Use some goats to ferry explosive munitions one or two times and suddenly that was all anyone could remember about you. Half the incidents with goblinfire hadn't even been my idea!  
  
I paced a bit as I spoke, “I learned some time back that Praes routinely has massive grain shortages. Between the blood rituals for the fields, the sorcerous weather, and the roaming sentient tigers...farming hasn’t been very viable.”  
  
Juniper nodded, “It’s a significant factor in Legion logistics, food shortages were a major cause of a number of past campaign failures.”  
  
“Exactly. And Callow has abundantly fertile fields, it’s the breadbasket for Praes right now. And what does every farmer need the blessings of if he wants his crops?” I paused, looking at them.  
  
There was a moment of thought. I had no doubt each of them had a viable answer in mind. Farming wasn’t any of their jobs, but they were each keen in their own way.  
  
“A good axe to keep away raiders?” Nauk answered uncertainly.  
  
Well, I was sure most of them had good answers. In fairness to Nauk, since orcs traditionally raided farms instead of running them, it was probably the most relevant answer he had.  
  
Apprentice had a growing look of revelation and stated out plainly, “The insects.”  
  
I grinned, “And we happen to have someone with the power to control swarms of bugs. I’ll have to talk to her of course and see if she’ll agree to it, but-”  
  
The door was pushed open, slowly with a grating sound. I would’ve preferred if it had slammed, but it wasn’t really physically possible to slam the doors to the main dining hall without being an ogre. They were far heavier than any door had a right to be and age had warped them to drag against the ground rather than glide. So it was that we were interrupted by the very slow opening of the door and a long, irritating grinding of wood against stone.  
  
A Praesi scout was leaning with one arm against the door, panting.  
  
“Lady Squire, the Winter Court is invading the city.” He panted out, “Legate Hune sent me to get you.”  
  
Godsdamnit.  
  
Of course. Fucking _Stories._ Always giving you a new problem before you can solve the last one.  
  
“One of these fucking days,” I growled. “One of these days I’ll get to have a victory that isn’t immediately followed by someone trying to kill us. Hakram, Apprentice. Come on, I need to work my frustration out on some Fae.”  
  
Hakram simply smiled toothily and Nauk whispered something to him that sounded suspiciously like a cooking recipe.  
  
Apprentice exhaled heavily, “Yes, I think I could use a target for my frustrations as well.”  
  
Oh, Apprentice was in a mood. I almost felt sorry for them.


	6. 1.5 - Taylor

### 1.5 - Taylor

  
  
“They say that any country is three meals away from a revolution. That is why I’ve replaced the Legions with my new army, an army of sentient tigers. Our armies cannot starve for lack of grain when they require no grain. No, as they say the taste of victory is best and they shall always feast on the flesh of victory!”  
-Dread Emperor Sorcerous  
  
I paced around the room they had given me. It was spacious enough, hosting a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a few other basic accoutrements. A chest to store my stuff, what little I had brought with me. My gun, with only the bullets that were in the magazine. Or was it a clip? I never understood the difference.  
  
My utility belt, which had everything from pepper spray to a cellphone to spare spidersilk. My costume and mask. My baton.  
  
Not much, all things considered. I hadn’t planned on running into much trouble, though I had been a bit antsy that the PRT was going to try something. A moot point for now.  
  
The room was exactly how I imagined medieval fantasy. Thick cotton and wool, rough hewn wood, a general sense of architecture that bespoke a lack of modern mathematics or machinery. A certain coziness, since everything was handmade and had a personal touch. As much as I appreciated how much it matched with my internal preconceptions, I hoped it wouldn’t match too much. If I recalled, sanitation and other amenities weren’t exactly well developed until more recent times.  
  
Hell, antibiotics weren’t even around. If I took injuries the way I did in Brockton Bay, I would probably die of an infection before anything else could get me. I’d have to be careful.  
  
It was like being a new cape again. I had no resources, no support. Every mistake could be deadly and I doubted this world didn’t play for keeps.  
  
The conversation in the other room cut off as the Squire stormed out with Apprentice and Adjutant. The bugs I had on them were heading towards the exit of the building. It seemed the Winter Court was real then, as weird as that was. I had been half convinced that it was a bluff, or maybe I was in a fever dream, but so far things were as real as they claimed to be.  
  
Hmph. Well, they didn’t sound evil. Evil? The difference was a bit strange and I rolled the two uses of the word around on my tongue. I figured it roughly equated to how villains worked in our world. The difference between the Undersiders and the Slaughterhouse Nine. Villains, but not reviled, kill-order level villains. That was something I could understand.  
  
I was almost a bit put out that I didn’t have an excuse to drop my swarm from the ceiling and walls, overwhelming them and their forces. I could’ve bartered with whoever their enemies were and maybe gotten a trade that got me to a competent tinker, mage, or whatever this world had. The way they spoke seemed to indicate there weren’t many other options for me, but they also suspected I would listen in.  
  
For all I knew, the whole meeting was designed entirely to influence my opinion.  
  
It was nice to hear someone planning _not_ to fuck me over, though.  
  
Admittedly, that didn’t sit right in my gut. The verbal jabs were too organic, the camaraderie too real for an act for my benefit. It was a little sickening, seeing that sort of friendship. I still missed it, just a little. The Undersiders had done a lot to help fill that void, but that dynamic had its problems as well. It didn’t mean that they hadn’t phrased things to influence me, but I was fairly certain it was more the day-to-day kind of manipulation rather than an elaborate plot.  
  
I could deal with routine manipulation. After all, I had dealt with the Trio, with Coil, with Armsmaster, with Accord. If these guys didn’t pull any tricks out to make me hate them, they were fighting for the top spot of least jackassery I’d had to deal with. I could appreciate that, even if I couldn’t trust it.  
  
I’d cooperate for now. I certainly wasn’t trusting them, but a little cooperation might go a long way.  
  
And a long way was home right now.  
  
I sighed, flopping back on the bed. I hadn’t removed my suit until I had covered the outside of the hall with bugs and jammed a chair up against the door. I’d sense anyone coming long before they got to the door, at least buying me enough time to get my mask on. They’d probably just knock and politely wait while I changed, but I still wasn’t taking that risk. Same reason for which I had shuttered and barred the window, despite the pleasant breeze it let in.  
  
There was a lot to take in. First of all, Names. They seemed to work like powers, but they were more specific in some ways and less specific in others. And the expectations of a Name seemed to have power. Squires became Knights, Warlocks got overthrown by perky young heroes. Catherine was actively trying to avoid those expectations too, I noticed. She was a villain and every bedtime story had the hero win in the end.  
  
It was...surprisingly similar to my own predicament. Traditional villains couldn’t get too powerful or else the Protectorate put them down. Instead they had to be unassuming up until they were in position to take the reigns of the city. Exactly what we had done. At that point we worked hard to revitalize the city and became too critical and mild for the Protectorate to go all in on. Well, until they had sent that idiot Tagg to my city. Something else I still had to take care of.  
  
So, there was a force here that pushed people in traditional roles into fulfilling them was the sense I got. The question was did that apply to me? And if so, what role would it try to slot me into? Clearly people here were aware of it. Hell, from what they had told me of the Calamities, some had even managed to succeed in circumventing it.  
  
That meant it was a force, but not a rule. So like gravity, kind of. Strong and guiding, but enough ingenuity could tell it to go fuck itself. Also Tinkers, which regularly told it to fuck off. I would kill for a Tinker right about now.  
  
Actually...considering those red letters, maybe I wouldn’t.  
  
The more pressing issue was what Squire had wanted to ask me to do and what was happening with the Winter Court. I was still...skeptical that Fae existed, but since everything else was crazy, I couldn’t quite deny it yet. My bugs were keeping track of them. Squire had grabbed what little equipment she didn’t have on already and the three Named had quickly gone out of my range to handle the Fae. General Juniper had rushed off, giving commands to twenty different people. I was surprised she wasn’t Named with how much she sounded like a Thinker. Killian and Pickler had scurried their separate ways to coordinate ranged bombardment from the sounds of it.  
  
It was a little worrisome just how much firepower they were sending to deal with these Fae. Legends had always painted the faerie folk as cunning and powerful, but I didn’t recall any myths of them invading reality or being particularly organized militarily. Maybe they had different legends here? I was really feeling the lack of information I had.  
  
First thing I was requesting was a set of boo-  
  
Wait, could I read? The spell had been for translating speech and even then it had taken some time for Apprentice to get it just right. Shit, if it didn’t work for text, I might be in trouble. Actually, would it work if Apprentice died? Now I was a bit more worried. Killian had mentioned that it was beyond her to cast, if the Fae managed to get him then I might be shit out of luck for communicating.  
  
I wasn’t about to go out and help them. I didn’t know the battleground, I didn’t know them, and I didn’t know the enemy. Did bugs even work on mystical creatures like Fae?  
  
Hell if I knew. It was their city, and they knew that the Winter Court was going to try, so they were likely ready for it. Right?  
  
I moved to the window, which was barred from my previous precautions. The sounds of distant battle rung from the city outside as I pressed an ear to the wooden shutter.  
  
Well, there was inevitably going to be fighting. They hadn’t called it an invasion to be dramatic I was sure. They probably could handle it, they had Named and soldiers.  
  
Right?  
  
The dull boom of a distant explosion lightly shook the window shutter.  
  
I was less and less happy with this world by the hour. It didn’t sit right with me, to sit silently and wait while others fought. But, I also knew basically nothing. Would they even welcome me trying to assist? They probably didn’t trust me any more than I trusted them, especially if they were smart. I tried to recall what I could about the faerie folk.  
  
They were weak to salt, cold iron, and boundaries. They followed certain rules, but I couldn’t remember which ones. Politeness was important in dealing with them. Something about if you were polite, they couldn’t mess with you much. Never ask for something, take something, or make deals with them. If they insisted on a reward, ask to return. They were like a genie, you wanted to be precise in your wording. Or was that a different myth? Fuck, what if some of what I remembered was just from authors who made up their own rules?  
  
I really wished I had my mother’s books to cross reference. I didn’t have cold iron, salt, or charms made of herbs. I didn’t even remember which herbs were the right ones. Again, I was at an impasse. There simply wasn’t a good course of action. I either tried to get into a fight that I lacked any solid information on, that I might not even be welcome in or I stayed in my room, doing all of nothing, and hoping that it worked out.  
  
My range was just over four blocks at the moment from my own internal sense of my bugs. Not quite enough to reach where the fighting was, though I certainly could follow a lot of hurried motion deeper in the city. Ultimately I was lacking information, regardless of what I did I should work on fixing that.  
  
I started to get my costume back on. Even if I didn’t fight, I could observe. I could see what this world’s Fae were like and how my newfound acquaintances fought. Maybe even see how Names worked in practice. I’d keep the bugs light, not drawing too much attention. If the battle was going south and Fae really were invading, I could figure something out then. If not, I’d have more information for tomorrow.  
  
All in all, it was a good plan, though not the best I’d ever concocted.  
  
Right as I got my mask on I heard a knocking sound. I turned, looking at the thick wooden door. It wasn’t coming from the door I realized, and there was no one in the hallway. Instead, a rasp of knuckles against wood came from the window.  
  
The window out of the second story of the building.  
  
My bugs started to converge around the exterior. Time to get a feel for whoever thought they were clever enough to avoid my attention while I had been busy fretting in my own head.  
  
_Clumsy, clumsy clumsy, you never would’ve let someone sneak that far inside your range in the Bay._  
  
Yeah, well in the Bay I wasn’t surrounded by Fae, creepy little goblins, genocidal gnomes, and actual wizards. Well, except when Myrridin had been there for Echidna.  
  
_Then, there was a wizard I guess._  
  
I moved to the window, extending the baton out in front of me. My swarm was massed both inside and out for whoever it was. With a firm arm, I used the tip of the baton to slid the bar off the window.  
  
  



	7. 1.6 - Catherine

### 1.6 - Catherine

  
“Studies show that 40% of all muggings are Name related. Either as a way to set up a fledgling Named or as a rise in dramatic tension. Mugging is the seventh most fatal occupation in Calernia for this reason, with the Legions of Terror being ninth in comparison.”  
-Treatises on Occupational Hazards across Calernia  
  
  
I flicked my blade, blood whipping onto the ground, and sheathed it again. I don’t know who in their right mind decided that the time to go out and rob someone was in the middle of a supernatural blizzard, or who in the city didn’t recognize Apprentice well enough to know better, but they were currently bleeding out on the side of the street. Apprentice had gone a few steps ahead, taking a shortcut through an alley, only for me to find a guy trying to rob him while he stood there, distinctly perplexed.  
  
Normally I might’ve been a bit less lethal about it, but God’s Below, I was not given an Aspect for patience. Hakram had eyed him hungrily, but I tugged him along as we got closer to the vortex of snow and ice that was currently filling the middle of my city.  
  
“Apprentice, tell me what kind of spell we’re looking at,” I said with a grimace.  
  
“Not a spell, it’s a gate or a crossing.”  
  
I sighed. “Can we close it or shut it off or whatever?”  
  
He frowned. “Possibly. I need to get closer to get a better look at it.”  
  
Good enough for me. We weren’t going to leave the Legion to deal with fairies by themselves anyway. The approach was bitter cold, even though the Legion mages had contained the blizzard somewhat the air around was still frigid. I knew that cold was worse than heat in many ways. It slowed the mind and reactions, made fingers stiff and clumsy. Heat exhausted you faster, but cold impaired you harshly and quickly. There was a reason most campaigns were fought in springs and summers.  
  
As we made our way down the streets I began to get a better view of our troops. Legion doctrine should’ve had them in well organized ramparts of shield walls, but instead they were in loose clusters, being picked apart by fairies. Somewhere along the way the line must've broken and the commanding officer had failed to get it to reform. The roofs were a series of running fights between goblins and Fae. Crossbow bolts and traps containing the Fae who tried to proceed above. Still, we were losing far too many goblins to keep them contained.  
  
I watched as a wooden sword bit straight through the Legion steel and sighed. Somewhere, someday, I would get to march on the field of battle against a normal army. Not an army of sentient tigers, not an army of devils, not an army of undead, and definitely not some guerilla force of fairies. Just some plain old people with normal gear and maybe a Named or two at the head. Creation owed me one normal fight at least once in my life.  
  
“Hakram, Apprentice, let’s clean this up before I lose any more legionnaires.” I waved to the sides and the two of them fanned out to my flanks.  
  
A fairy flitted in front of me, a long wooden spear darting forward for my legs. I jumped, stepping off of it and bashed my shield into its face. For good measure I bashed it a few more times in rapid succession. Ah, it felt good to be back on the field where I could solve my problems with violence. I knew Black would have some words about effective Villaining with me over it, but I just didn’t have the head for strategy and more passive tactics like he did. This, this was where I could let loose.  
  
The Fae took notice of the Named entering the battlefield and began to rush us. Perfect, as I really needed them to stop cutting up my troops. We only had so many of those and Marchford had not been kind to them before either. This city was, overall, not particularly liked by the Fifteenth at the moment. The devils, rebuilding, corruption, and now Fae had really left a poor impression on some of the legion according to Ratface. Nothing worth worrying over, but I had the feeling they’d be happy to leave the city behind.  
  
A blade went for my back and I twisted, that sense that came with being Named giving me the timing to bend just out of the way. I smashed my hilt back into the ethereal face as it started to say something, quickly twisting the blade down to bite through its shoulder. A second tried to flank me and I ducked low, ripping my blade free to bring it around, cutting deep into the knee. The first was still surprisingly alive and I had to bring my shield up to block another blow, the sword biting into good legion steel. A few minutes of this and I was going to have to replace yet another set of armor.  
  
Still, these were clearly only foot soldiers. A quick lop of my blade took down another as I started to get into the swing of how they moved. Now that Named were on the field, I would’ve expected them to send something out that could actually challenge us. Unless this was just a scouting foray, but a sustained blizzard felt like a bit much for just that. Hakram was working his way through a group, biting down deep into the neck of one before quickly spitting it out with a grimace. Huh, guessing fairy didn’t taste particularly good.  
  
I called over to him, “Need some salt with that one?”  
  
He spat again, working his jaw, “Not enough salt in Creation to hide that taste.”  
  
“Well at least it’s only foot soldiers,” I replied.  
  
Figures waded out of the snow towards us. Taller than the other Fae and this time forming a proper group rather than the annoying loose formation we had seen up until now. They were clad in armor made of dead wood and looked down sternly at us. These ones wielded bronze spears. Perfect, I had wanted to speed things up a bit.  
  
“Children,” one of them began to mock. I could sense a small monologue coming and flicked my wrist with a twist and a small knife shot out, forcing him to duck right when he had been about to say something. Probably mocking us as lesser beings unable to comprehend something, blah blah blah. It really was always the same sort of thing from things outside Creation proper.  
  
He snarled and the spear went straight for my head. I grinned, twisting out of the way as I slapped it with my blade. The rest moved in with him, acting as a unit. A proper challenge was coming my way now. I could feel the beast behind my Name rising up at the occasion. The two who went for me were fast, almost as fast as Hunter had been, and definitely more coordinated. I could tell I had angered the one a bit by interrupting him. Pretentious creatures, whether Fae, human, or even Praesi, always hated being interrupted. I was pretty used to people looking down on me and by now I had made a fine art out of gutting them. This was going to get good.  
  
At least, I had thought as much until one of them froze in place and my sword ran cleanly through him. He hadn’t tried to dodge the clearly fatal blow. I immediately looked over at Masego and got an unapologetic shrug.  
  
“I thought it best to handle this quickly,” he merely offered as one of the ones harrying Hakram ignited, sending Hakram stumbling back to avoid catching fire in turn.  
  
“You enjoyed that,” I accused him.  
  
He raised his eyebrows over the spectacles, “Me? Never. Oh, duck.”  
  
I ducked, feeling the air shift as a bronze blade cut through the air where my neck had been. I knew he was in a mood over the whole Skitter incident, but robbing me of a good fight?  
  
Now that was going too far.  
  
  



	8. 1.7 - Taylor

### 1.7 - Taylor

  
“Always assume you will not make it out alive, typically best exemplified by praying. The quickest way to guarantee an ill-timed death is to assume that you’re safe. Constant, persistent vigilance is your best tool for survival.”  
-Two Hundred Heroic Axioms  
  
  
“You know, the bugs tonight are rather fierce. I could’ve sworn I felt an entire pond’s worth of mayflies go down my shirt.”  
  
A young woman climbed in through the window. A flask hung open at her hip and she was a pale tan, dressed in a motley assortment of barely matching and loosely fitted clothes. I was a bit uneasy at how casual she was treating this entire situation, especially given the ease she apparently had in getting here. She wasn’t anyone I had met, and that made me even more concerned. No one else should know I was here.  
  
“Cat got your tongue? Get it, because Catherine?” She tilted her head, “No? Brooding type I see. I suppose that fits the all black then.”  
  
I kept quiet. She was being too glib about this. Showing up in the middle of a villain’s city, during an attack. She was either above Squire in the power hierarchy here or she was some sort of outsider. I didn’t trust Squire particularly much, but I trusted strange women coming through windows even less.  
  
She sat on the windowsill, taking a swig from the flask that swung around on her hip. A big swig. I was a bit impressed she wasn’t already falling out the window. The window that had a distressing amount of blizzard outside it. How_ did_ she climb up that and exactly who was she?  
  
“I don’t know you.” I kept it simple.  
  
She quirked an eyebrow amusedly. “Nor I, you. And that’s why I’m here you see. It’s very rare for me not to know someone and you’ve just come and interloped into my story.” _Her story?_ Her whimsical tone took a hard edge, “Depending on what you are, I might have to ask you to leave.”  
  
I stalled for time to think, “I just want to go home.”  
  
_Not untrue._  
  
She smiled a bit at that, her voice lilting, “Is that it? Well now, that’s not so bad. I don’t know exactly how you got here, but being kidnapped by a bunch of villains always ruins your day. Though you’re not looking so heroic yourself.”  
  
_She mentioned this was her story. She’s talking about heroes and villains, so she’s aware like Squire is. A Named then? It would explain how she got up here. She doesn’t look like an Assassin. Maybe a Thief? They can be whimsical, yet competent._  
  
I sputtered slightly, realizing I had taken too long to reply, “It wasn’t supposed to look so villainous. It just came out this way. Once people knew me, it was too late to change it.”  
  
“Ah, so not a villain then?” She asked, probingly. It wasn’t subtle, but I felt like I was a hair’s breadth from her trying to cut my throat. She could afford to be blunt.  
  
I shrugged, “More of a...antihero? It’s complicated.”  
  
“An antihero, I just finished working with someone kindof close to that actually. Good stuff. Always complicated with you guys too,” She said, chipper, before leaning in slightly with a keen look. “And usually inclined to hold their cards close to their chest.”  
  
_She knows I’m fudging things. She doesn’t know how though. She had to ask about my alignment, so she hasn’t spied on my meeting with Squire then. I just have to play up the antihero angle._  
  
I folded my arms, “Sorry if I’m a bit wary of trusting random women who crawl through my window in the night.”  
  
She offered the flask to me and I put a hand up, rejecting it. “Sorry, I suppose I never did introduce myself. I’m Aoede, pleasure to meet you.”  
  
I hesitated. How to introduce myself? If I said Skitter, she might connect two and two later. If I said Taylor, she’d have my real name. Fae existed here, and I remembered that there was power in names in old myths and legends.  
  
“Anne. Forgive me if I’m a bit cautious.” I waved my hand around the room. “Suddenly brought into the middle of a villain’s headquarters and all that.”  
  
She chuckled, the movement causing her to spill a bit of her drink out the window behind her.  
  
“Good on you there. Though I am awfully curious how you managed to get them to give you nice, comfy quarters without a single shackle on you.” She gestured to me, tilting back slightly on the windowsill. I supposed it was too much to hope she fell off it.  
  
I kept to my act, shrugging, “For villains, they didn’t seem unreasonable. They didn’t want to pick a fight when they were the ones who fucked up. If they’ll get me home, I’m fine with sitting in a room for a bit.”  
  
She raised a finger, wagging it. Behind her the cold air was starting to leak in and the blizzard looked closer. I was starting to worry about that. “Tut tut, you should know better than that. Who says they aren’t just waiting until they know they can control you? Or even that they can get you home? Squire is a tricky one, she hasn’t gotten this far by playing nice.”  
  
I didn’t know anything about Squire or how she had gotten to wherever here was. All I had was their own representation of themselves. For all I knew, Aoede was right and she was some sort of manipulator like Coil. Perfectly capable of looking legitimate and polite, but conniving and cold blooded underneath. On the other hand, Aoede could be lying to get me against them. I didn’t know why she might do that, but given that Squire was rather villainous she probably had plenty of enemies. Scratch that, the city was being invaded by Fae, she definitely had plenty of enemies.  
  
Squire didn’t seem like Coil, however. If anything, she seemed more like me, weirdly enough.  
  
I kept my arms folded, doing my level best to appear standoffish but not entirely hostile. “Maybe, but it’s not like I have many options. I don’t know a thing about this world.”  
  
Keep it simple, kernels of truth used to create misconceptions. I had lied plenty before now, but I didn’t want to take any risks. I didn’t know if there were Named equivalent of Thinkers and I didn’t want to find out by having one catch me out.  
  
She leaned forward, taking another gulp of what smelled distressingly like gasoline, “What if I told you that there was another way? You’d have to trust me, at least a bit, but do I really look less trustworthy than Squire?”  
  
I looked pointedly at the flask, just a few inches from her lips.  
  
She held still and then lowered it behind her back, “Now?”  
  
“Fine,” I conceded. “What’s your pitch?”  
  
  



	9. 1.8 - Catherine

### 1.8 - Catherine

  
“Among all the ways I expected I might die, coughing to death from the plague is the most inglorious. Tell them I was ironically beaten to death by a mob of mutes.”  
-Davos the Silent, Leader of the Assassin’s Guild  
  
  
I panted just a little. The Deadwood soldiers hadn’t been the worst opponent I’d faced, but they certainly would’ve cut through the rank and file of the Legion quickly enough. Oh, I trusted the Legion could’ve well put them down without me, but it would’ve been costly. Goblin munitions did manage to kill all sorts of things. I had yet to run into a problem that they couldn’t be applied to, though sometimes, if you wanted the city intact afterwards, they weren’t the best choice. My Senior Sapper, Pickler, might’ve argued that point, but then again I was pretty sure her orientation was for explosives.  
  
Robber, would’ve just found a way to shank the soldiers, against all odds and logic. I did love the Fifteenth for that reason. No fuss, no muss. None of those expectations of grand speeches or glorious marches. They knew the score and were happy to get in there and stab things that needed stabbing. I looked back, I could barely see our own soldiers through the snowstorm, but it looked like they had reformed into ranks once we had broken the momentum of the Fae. I could trust they’d contain anything that might slip past us.  
  
I shook my blade off, the blood not quite flicking off as the cold congealed it unnaturally quick. I grimaced and wiped it off on my thigh. Not like I wasn’t going to be covered in more by the end of this anyway.  
  
“So, who do you think we have to kill to get rid of this storm?” Hakram grumbled, still looking a bite sore at Apprentice for almost setting him on fire before.  
  
“They said that one of those-” I gestured to the Deadwood soldiers, “-was at the center of the last breach. Given that we killed four of them…”  
  
Hakram snorted, “It probably means something worse is the cause this time.”  
  
“Well, when have you ever known things to get easier?” I said.  
  
“With the three of us they weren’t much of a challenge. If it’s the same jump between the skirmishers and the soldiers-” Hakram proposed.  
  
“-then they’ll have sorely underestimated our ability to deal with the next step up.” I finished.  
  
He was right. The soldiers had been tough, they certainly would’ve cut through my legion a fair bit, but they had gone down fairly quickly under a combined attack from all three of us. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things might’ve played out differently if it had just been two of us or just myself, but as it was the three of us combined could safely handle a fair bit more. Unsafely, we could handle quite a bit more, but I didn’t want to use those kind of gambits on a scouting party.  
  
It had to be them testing our defenses. Slowly ramping up the pressure to see what we could bring to bear? If we brought out our heavy hitters early we might end up at a disadvantage when they hit us in earnest. On the other hand, if we hit hard enough maybe it’d scare them into invading somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t my problem.  
  
“It doesn’t add up. If the Fae had attempted to invade Creation before, I think I’d have heard of it. So what are they doing here?” I grumbled.  
  
Masego nodded, “You’re mostly correct, while the Fae have been known to make small incursions there’s never been a large scale military action waged against Creation. It’s suspected they might’ve been involved in an incident in the Golden Bloom several centuries back, but there’s no reliable records of it.”  
  
“You just have to be first at everything,” Hakram prodded with a bit of tooth flashing.  
  
I rolled my eyes, “If we kill the fucker at the center of this, will it stop?”  
  
“There’s a decent chance,” Masego said tactically. I knew he was precise to a fault, if he was refusing to say yes, it meant something was going to be trouble.  
  
I beckoned for them to follow and trudged forward into the blizzard. Annoying that Winter had to invade. Summer would’ve been nicer, a pleasant heat wave and a beach instead of trying to turn my city into a frigid wasteland. Who was I kidding? Summer probably would’ve scorched Marchford into an inhospitable desert or something equally dickish.  
  
Given how low the visibility was, I felt that a minor Choir could’ve walked by without us noticing. The storm certainly worsened closer to the center. I paused. _We are getting closer to the center...aren’t we?_  
  
“Masego…” I shielded my eyes as I looked over to him. He was covering his ears with his hands, which were wrapped inside his baggy robes. “We are headed towards the center, right?”  
  
Masego looked at me, frowning as frost tried to form on his eyebrows, “Of course.”  
  
“And you would know if we-” I gagged, a few small insects haranguing me suddenly by flying into my mouth. “Pah!”  
  
Bugs? In the middle of a snowstorm?  
  
“It would appear Skitter is tracking us,” Masego stated, a little too quick to change the subject. “Curious that she could get her swarm this far into the blizzard.”  
  
Hakram looked at the mage skeptically, “If she was tracking us, she could be subtle about it. I think she noticed something we didn’t.”  
  
_Shit, he’s right. That wasn’t a wayward clump of her swarm, that was a message._ I swiveled and a bronze spear, humming with faint power from the runes traced along it’s haft, shot out of the howling snow. I didn’t even bother trying to block it, I’d seen how much good normal steel did against Fae by now. Reflex let me catch it out of the air. I looked down, feeling the weight of it in my hand.  
  
“Apprentice, which direction feels least full of Fae?” I asked.  
  
“Catherine, the chances of hitting-” He replied, exasperated.  
  
I cut him off, “Which direction?”  
  
He pointed slightly back and to the left. I chucked the spear with all my strength at roughly chest height and was rewarded with the pained whiny of a horse and several spears lobbed at us in return. Looked like we had found our next step in the fairy food chain. Cavalry, if I had to guess from the sound. That meant long lances and trampling were next. _Apprentice better not spoil my fun on this one._  
  
“Careful boys, I think we’ve found their cavalry.”  
  
I searched around, only seeing spectral images in the storm. Some of them might have been real, but I wasn’t about to chase off after one. I knew the stories of how fairies used illusions to lead folks astray. I had the feeling that there were some much more tactical uses of that skill as well.  
  
Masego traced a rune briefly in the air, “Catherine, in regards to your earlier question, we have now passed the center.”  
  
“We haven’t moved.” Hakram said, his axe held down at his side but ready.  
  
“What do you mean passed the center?” I asked, having the distinct feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.  
  
He replied slowly, doing something arcane with his spectacles from how they glowed briefly,  
  
“We’ve crossed into Arcadia, as far as I can tell.”  
  
I groaned, "Oh for fuck's-" My words were cut off as a lance speared out of the blizzard, with a horse and rider shortly behind it. Only by a quick leap to the side did I avoid getting trampled or skewered as the host wheeled around at me. They moved so that each covered the blind spots of the last, more coordinated than most mortal cavalry. Even with my reflexes, I felt cold touch my thigh where a lance had glanced my leg, taking a slice of the armor with it.  
  
I was suddenly getting a lot more comfortable with the idea of Apprentice butting into this fight.  
  
  



	10. 1.9 - Taylor

### 1.9 - Taylor

“When we had heard Skitter disappeared off the face of the Earth, we thought our luck was looking up. One less criminal warlord, a chance to wrangle the city under control a bit more. Good stuff, right? Oh, we were so wrong.”  
-Triumph on the Brockton Bay Portal Incident  
  
  
As Aoede climbed out the window and disappeared, I pondered her offer. In one sense, it was safe to stay with Squire. If her crew had brought me here, her crew might have the means to return me. On the other hand, I shouldn’t limit my options prematurely. It was very well that there might be people more capable than them who could help me if I made the right connections. Either way, neither choice needed to be made immediately. I intended to get as much information as possible first. In the end, I needed to get back to Brockton Bay. My people were relying on me, my team needed me. The timer was counting down back home and the longer I took in this fucked up magical fantasy land, the more could go wrong at home.  
  
I decided to return to my first order of business before someone had climbed through my window, which was to observe what was happening in the fight with the Fae. During my talk I had kept track of my swarm, but I was only able to reach the edge of the fighting from my room. My bugs on the back ranks of Legion soldiers told me that the fighting was settling down. People weren’t relaxed, but order was returning where there had been chaos. I had lost track of Squire and her crew a few minutes ago as they passed out of range, but had left a few bugs on them in forced hibernation. If I could get them back in range, I could pick them up again quickly.  
  
I made sure my costume was on and left my chambers, entering the long hall. The torch light flickering gently on wood made me think of how thankful I was for modern conveniences. Even when we’d gone without in many areas due to Leviathan, semblances of modern life were still all around. I was truly in an alien world here, one where electricity wasn’t around and wouldn’t be for awhile at best. I pulled out my cellphone, turning it on. It took a few seconds before the screen lit up.  
  
_Universal roaming my ass_. I sighed, turning it back off. Might as well conserve the battery, but it’d be dead either way after a month. It was about as useful as a small brick without a signal. I checked my pistol. One full magazine, so fifteen shots. Pepper spray, check. Baton, check. Knife, check. Epipen, check. _Huh, I wonder if an epipen would even stop anaphylactic shock for people here._ I ground my teeth a little at all the little frustrations that popped up constantly here. Everything was different, not just in big ways, but in all the small ways you never even thought about.  
  
I made my way down the halls, using my power to avoid those scurrying around the castle and headed out one of the servant entrances I had mapped out with my swarm earlier. From the feeling I got tracking them it seemed Squire’s people were either well disciplined or used to this kind of thing. What did it say about this place that people might actually be used to mythical creatures invading? Outside was colder, the night air and the localized blizzard both contributing to the chill in the air. I felt the edge of my power move deeper into the blizzard as I headed for it, avoiding clumps of Legion soldiers and moving via side streets. Every house was closed up, the citizens who were still alive were the ones smart enough to keep their heads down.  
  
I could feel my bugs perish as the cold took them, some were hardier than others and I pushed forward into the blizzard with those. I wouldn’t be getting them back out though, too many were dying on the way in for there to be a chance that any number would survive a return trip. I paused momentarily in confusion. My power felt like it was going further into the blizzard, but I knew from my surrounding swarm that the blizzard was only so big. Squire’s mages had kept the center of the storm contained and I was close enough now to map out the circumference of that center. So why was my power telling me that there was more?  
  
It came on me nearly instantly. When my power extended through the portal that we had made in Brockton Bay to an alternate Earth it felt the same way. If the Fae were coming from a different realm or whatever they called it here, then it would work the same. At the edge of my range, I felt a few familiar bugs suddenly appear under my control. I had found Squire and co, and they must’ve just crossed the threshold. From the way they moved, slowly and cautiously, they didn’t seem to know what to expect. My bugs also flew into something solid and cold, that killed them with a mere touch. I didn’t have enough left to sacrifice more to map it out, but it was dangerous.  
  
I pushed the few bugs I had gotten that far onto Squire, trying to get her attention. Villain or not, I needed her alive for the moment. If I could just warn her that something strange was going on…  
  
My bugs perished quickly in the cold. I felt Squire twist quickly and the trio sprung into action of some sort, with Squire at the front. I was losing my picture though, the few bugs that were left were already expiring in the harsh cold. Another few seconds and I lost my picture of them entirely, the rest of my swarm gathered outside the center of the blizzard where it could survive under piles of rubbish and sheltered areas from the biting cold.  
  
I waited, unseen. Hours passed and neither Squire nor Apprentice nor Adjutant returned from the storm. The remaining Fae were picked off in short order, the goblins taking particular glee in hunting them down. I was having to get used to telling different races apart. Short and murderous were goblins, who were also liable to eat my bugs if they noticed them. Beefy usually meant orcs, though sometimes they were just particularly big and strong humans. I was starting to get a sense through my bugs for how orcs smelled and looked different though. After a time the storm even settled, returning to a more calm, frigid patch than an outright blizzard.  
  
_Fuck. They’re not coming back._  
  
I couldn't be sure, but that felt like a gate closing. A heroic, or villainous I guess, return would’ve had them emerge victorious from the raging storm. It settling could only mean they were stuck on the other side. I tracked some of the officers in my range and listened in through my swarm, but I couldn’t make head or tails of what I was hearing. It was like they were speaking a different language-_oh son of a bitch, Apprentice said the spell was tied to him. He’s gone to god knows where in fairyland, so I guess the spell broke?_  
  
It was like dealing with Tinkers all over again. Powerful, versatile, and a giant pain in my ass.  
  
Well I was now stuck in a city where I didn’t know anyone and couldn’t speak the language. My best shot so far at getting home was either dead or locked in fairyland. As time passed, the news that Squire wasn’t returning trickled around and I could sense the anxiety and panic rising. This city was a giant bed of matches ready to burn and I was without any support.  
  
I wasn’t about to sit around for who knows how long trying to learn some bullshit Tolkien-esque language in a city that could ignite any moment, with no idea when or even if Squire would return.  
  
No, it was just like Brockton Bay. I had to take my life into my own hands if I wanted to get anything done.  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

### 2.0 - Catherine

  
  
“Supplies!”  
\- Isabella the Mad, leading a nighttime assault on a Helikean army’s wagon train (unconfirmed)  
  


  
\--Three Months Later--

  
“What do you mean she’s gone?”  
  
The frost wreathing the goblet crunched under my fingers, and a pink iceberg of frozen water bobbed in a liquid that was getting closer in proof to the fortified wines of Denier. I ignored it, directing my attention instead to Ratface. To his credit, he managed to tear his gaze from my hand and showed only the barest hesitation at the unintentional display of power. Today was getting worse and worse by the minute. Somehow, I had thought that nearly dying while stealing a mantle from a Fae Duke, getting screwed over by the King of Winter, and having my heart stolen by said King would be the worst thing to happen to me. But no, I had come back from Arcadia to worse. Somehow. A war on at least two fronts, between Diabolist and the Summer Court running rampant, and possibly up to five had started in my absence. Thief had stolen my money and all of Callow was in riots due to the coup on the Ruling Council. On top of needing to settle all of that, Skitter was missing now. My shit list is getting very long today.  
  
“Slipped out of her room and left the city the same day you went through the portal. Didn’t even know she was gone until Pickler stopped by to try and needle her for more ideas. None of the legionaries guarding the castle, the grounds, or the city gates saw her leave, but if she shucked the armor first she probably wouldn’t have made much of an impression.”  
  
I cursed volubly in Kharsum and Hakram gave me a look that said he’d be giving me some tutoring later, if only to later spare him my pronunciation.  
  
I set my cup back down and chewed on that. It had been three months in Creation for my one month in Arcadia. Not the worst, as legend had minutes in Arcadia could be years in Creation sometimes. But with three months’ head start, she could have covered quite a distance, and might not even still be in Callow if she had a horse. She had left before we could really learn anything substantial about her. Looking back, she’d had an eerie poise to her that reminded me uncomfortably of looking in the mirror during that time I spent dead, totally still. Could she have been one of Akua’s agents? My lips thinned as I dismissed the notion quickly. She was living, human flesh and blood, Masego had confirmed it. And besides, I doubted that anyone but Warlock could hijack Masego's summoning, especially inside of his tower.  
  
I considered why she would have left. She didn’t trust any of us, it was plain to see just from our short interaction. I sensed a connection there, though. One could learn much about a person by studying their enemies. If she had gone south to Liesse, she was a lost cause, either burned by fae or suborned by Diabolist. If she went west to Procer she’d butt heads with the heroes there, but it didn’t exactly fit. She may have gone north to Summerholm, though the city was nominally held by the Fifth and General Orim. If she kept her head down she might have been able to slip by. Something to consider. If she went east, she’d be lost in the endless dunes of Praes, likely filling some unspeakable horror’s belly. Maybe with a caravan, but you needed money or a trade to join one of those. An Aspect might see her through, but she’d said she didn’t have a Name. Her power was flexible, but I wasn’t sure if it would do much good against those ancient horrors. Vexing.  
  
What was her goal? She didn't know anyone else in this world, if she was telling the truth.  
  
I scowled. Worse than vexing, if the shape of this Story was as I feared. A stranger in a strange land, witnessing the chaos wrought in a land conquered by Evil. She unlocks an ancient power and defeats the forces of Evil by the barest margin, taking grievous injuries but emerging victorious and returning to her homeland. Or, she realizes her found family of scrappy youths is a second home. She probably even manages to turn the Villain’s misguided protégé against him. I had little and less interest in betraying Black, so the story would probably just screw me over.  
  
“I’m going to see Apprentice.” I said, and turned about, leaving the room.  
  
I found him armpit deep in a swan. Considering the relative volumes involved, I was somewhat concerned where the rest of his arm was, but elected not to walk down that road. I cleared my throat and he responded somewhat hurriedly, not taking his eyes off his work.  
  
“Yes, yes, I know you’re there. Just wait a moment. This is very delicate.”  
  
Someday he would learn to stop feeding me straight lines.  
  
I clapped once, injecting a bit of my newfound strength into it. The effect was like a scorpion’s bowstring snapping, and Masego jumped, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. The swan, for its part, erupted.  
  
He glared at me, not even bothering to brush the feathers from his robe. Admittedly it was a rather more extreme effect than I had been expecting. Some was even clinging to the ceiling of the room on the second floor of his mage’s tower. I opted to smooth my sheepish grin and proceed as though nothing had happened.  
  
“I need you to find our wayward demon.”  
  
I had his attention before, but now I had his interest. And his annoyance at the reference to his ill-fated summoning ritual.  
  
“You lost her? A woman wreathed in a plague of locusts?”  
  
I grimaced.  
  
“Same day we left. She could be anywhere, but I’m willing to bet you could scry her, give us a hint of where she’s headed.”  
  
He blinked, then paced over to a benchtop that held an assortment of glassware and crucibles as well as a mirror on a simple wire stand. He pressed a hand to its surface, and after a minute of eldritch muttering, it flashed brightly.  
  
I squinted against the harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the dunes, far brighter than the gloom of Apprentice’s swan-pestering room.  
  
The damnable mage, for his part, merely darkened the lenses of his spectacles with a gesture.  
  
As the perspective swam into focus, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
“Is that a giant scorpion?”  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was guest written by Kadath, who should be writing his own fics but is instead helping write mine.


	12. 2.1 - Taylor

### 2.1 - Taylor

  
“It might be the heat stroke talking, but I’ve just come up with a marvelous idea…”  
\- Dread Empress Sinistra the First, Calernia’s foremost and least successful weather mage  
  
  
One of the vanishingly few silver linings I could see in my current situation was that the mutated scorpions I was controlling ran fast. Another was that I had made it out of Aksum without any new perforations.  
  
On the other claw, the past month had been crowded with too many figurative stormclouds and not enough of the literal variety. The sun beat down mercilessly and with my legs straddling a mass of glistening black carapace I felt uncomfortably like I was riding an oven into the mouth of a furnace.  
  
As we crested a high dune, I managed to enjoy the feeling of a breeze despite how the accompanying grit scoured my sunburnt knuckles. From behind I heard a cry and a dry thud as a former slave lost his grip on the carapace of another scorpion. He rolled down the side of the dune in a tangle of limbs and rags and I fought down my first impulse to try and arrest his fall using one of my oversized bugs. I’d seen what those claws could do if I wasn’t careful.  
  
“This was a terrible idea,” I muttered under my breath, chapped lips scraping at the fabric of my mask. I couldn’t very well remove the dark fabric currently boiling my brain, since the lenses glued to the inside were my only way to see anything coming from outside my range.  
  
I spared a glance back at the line of mutated bugs trailing behind me, blocked somewhat by the cloud of locusts that were able to keep up with us.  
  
As the man rolled to a stop in the valley between this dune and the next, I had the scorpion he had fallen from approach as gingerly as I dared. He shrank back instinctively as the bulk loomed in his peripheral vision, but quickly recovered and took the proffered claw, pinched closed and offered to help him to his feet. He hauled himself back up on the creature’s back and we sped off. Even the tallest of the shimmering spires of Aksum soon dipped below the horizon, though with it out of view I only grew more paranoid that the ruler (Dutchess? Marquess? Mayor?) of that city was still hot on my heels. Intellectually, I knew that she wasn’t. For one thing, I would have sensed her coming from a dozen tall dunes away, and for another she never would have been able to crest even one in that gilded palanquin of hers.  
  
My hands clenched so hard around the shelf of chitin that was keeping me from tumbling off that I almost imagined that it would begin to bend. It didn’t, of course, being thick enough to turn aside a blade if not a bullet. The woman who’d been introduced as “Vrau Hoog Abreha” had turned my stomach with the casual way she ordered the slaves executed right in front of her, in front of the crowd.  
  
_A sacrifice, not an execution._  
  
A chill that had nothing to do with the stifling heat quivered up my spine at the realization. I felt the mask lift off my face in places as it twisted into a wordless rictus, the most emotion I allowed myself to express with so few bugs at my disposal. It felt _wrong_, somehow, to have only a thousand or so crickets, scorpions, locusts, and beetles clinging to the backs of my scorpions a respectful distance from my new charges’ handholds.  
  
The executioner, or priest, or whatever, had grabbed the first prisoner by the hair and cut his throat, splashing red on the salt-and-pepper of his ragged beard. I could still see it boiling in the basin they set out to catch it.  
  
Not for the first time, I reminded myself that I was far, far from Earth Bet.  
  
Scorpions couldn’t really trip, but I nearly flipped forward over my mount’s claws as its forlegs caught nothing but air and the front of it dipped down over the edge of a rocky outcropping. A moment later I was standing up, having it tilt its carapace more horizontally, shading my eyes against the glare that my lenses did little to dampen. Before me stretched a rocky waste, thankfully much more flat than the seemingly endless dunes at my back. Unfortunately, there was still nothing like a watering hole in sight.  
  
I found myself looking back fondly to the time several weeks back when I almost drowned in the vast river that separated the rolling hills of the land I had left from the arid grasslands at the far west of the _Dread Empire of Praes_. I still wasn’t over the name. Picking a name like that meant you had to live up to it. Back in Marchford I’d heard the broad strokes of its history, but that didn’t compare to setting foot in the land itself. Thus far I’d seen surly soldiers, sickened slaves, and a surfeit of sand.  
  
The ground lurched underneath my mount’s feet, and the beetles slumbering half out of torpor below helped me map out the rough shape of the massive form struggling to lift itself out of the sand. I dropped to my hands and knees as my mount scuttled away from the plume of sand and dust, nearly losing a leg as a stone came down with a massive force. I squinted instinctively against the grit bouncing off my lenses. It looked almost like-  
  
“Is that a hand?” a woman with deep creases lining her face trembled in her perch as the last of the scorpions in my wagon-train-cum-entomology-exhibit caught up.  
  
My surprise at hearing the first obviously not Praesi words in months was dwarfed by the shock of seeing a stern face chiseled in sandstone lurch into view. Whoever it depicted wore their hair like the Pharaohs of Egypt, if those ancient kings looped snakes through their beards. Most of the freestanding heads had been broken off, but enough remained anchored to the background of the relief that I could get the basic idea. Somehow I got the impression that this wasn’t a friendly monstrosity. The head soon loomed far above as the figure ground its way to a kneeling position.  
  
_Ah, how could I forget? Sorcery! Spells supporting a stone servant sent to squish me into a smudge on the sand!_ I ranted to myself, head pounding and ears ringing. Maybe the heat stroke was getting to me. The few foes I’d fought, human and otherwise, had been easy enough to predict, misdirect, and defeat, having the usual weak points concentrated around the face and mucous membranes. Even some of the bizarre fauna that prowled the dunes at night had quickly decided to try for less venomous prey after a single encounter. Nothing I had encountered in this country had been remotely friendly. I surmised that my scorpions’ stingers, large though they were, wouldn’t be particularly helpful in this instance. If I engaged it, I would lose, and everyone would die.  
  
As the statue struggled to get its feet underneath it in the cavity filled with loose sand that it had just vacated, I took the opportunity to turn tail and run. My locusts rose into the air, some settling on its head and shoulders as it ponderously stood. After daring to look over my shoulder, I redoubled our pace as I realized that although it didn’t step quickly, its long strides quickly ate up the ground. I couldn’t separate anyone off to try and lead it away from the group, since all my scorpions were carrying a person and I didn’t dare let them out of my radius.  
  
I was reminded uncomfortably of my first night out as a cape. The oppressive heat, the heavy footfalls of an implacable foe thudding behind me, and the scrabbling of my bugs’ legs against armor too thick to pierce. I had what few spiders I had been able to scrounge up begin preparing silken threads, for all the good they might do.  
  
The coarse, rocky sand soon gave way further to a hard-packed expanse of dirt interspersed with tall spires of rock and earth and capped with wind-etched stone. I lured the statue into the forest of pillars, hoping to at least slow it down or damage it, but it ploughed through them as though they weren’t there. I bit back a curse and continued on, keeping well ahead of its massive, grasping hands. My eye fell on a dip in the ground that formed the end of a long, thin seam between the sandy dirt and a shelf of rock. I aimed my group down the middle of it, my scorpions’ legs tilling furrows in the ground as they ate up the distance.  
  
Yet still it pursued.  
  
The seam weaved to and fro, steadily angling downward into a ravine, and I made the snap decision to follow it. I wasn’t betting on the statue running out of breath sooner than our mounts would, and I spotted more than a few crumbling cliff faces I could see maybe coming down with the right application of force. The ravine wasn’t deep, at least on the scale of the battle I was currently avoiding, only reaching a few heads higher than the statue.  
  
I looked to the left and to the right, eyeing the shower of pebbles raining down from either side that had been shaken loose by our pursuer’s footfalls. As I turned in my seat to glance back at the statue, three things happened in rapid succession. First, a wedge of stone came loose and shattered against the crown of the statue’s head to negligible effect. Second, the statue lurched, as though it put a foot wrong and turned its ankle. Then the ground dropped out from under us.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second guest chapter by Kadath


	13. 2.2 - Catherine

### 2.2 - Catherine

  
  
“It’s said that tongue spoken in the Grey Eyries is so secretive that even leaking the intonations leads to a swift and inevitable death. Goblins are not to be befriended. Beside their incredibly savage and violent culture, there is no practical gain as they would rather die than leak information on even the most trivial matters.”  
\- Extract from “How to Win Friends and Influence People”, a common household book in Praes  
  
  
The scrying pool turned opaque and I looked over to Apprentice. Apprentice, for his part, did not look back but frowned at the scrying bowl. I picked a feather off his shoulder and let it drop to the ground.  
  
“Apprentice?”  
  
“She’s somewhere outside Aksum, headed East.” He offered, moving a hand around the bowl as he tried to get a visual that wasn’t a chaos of colors.  
  
I sighed. “Can you keep tracking her?”  
  
“Of course. The level of precision will be inversely related to my distance to her, however. Should you want me to track her down to the foot, it will have to be relatively close.” He drew some arcana over the bowl and the pool evaporated into a fine mist.  
  
"Sure you don't need to be close because you have more questions for her?" I shook my head. “No, I need you with me.”  
  
I couldn’t very well send Masego off across half the Empire just to track down a single girl. With the Fae in Dormer I would need his expertise if we had any chance of dislodging them. Not to mention my newfound powers from Arcadia were still rather unstable. I disliked the idea of having him too far away for either reason. Beyond the immediate threats there was Akua as well, now calling herself Diabolist. The Name certainly indicated I’d be needing a mage of my own most likely to counter whatever horde of devils she released this time. Hopefully she’d have the consideration to ruin part of Praes instead of Callow. Unlikely, as she had been reportedly holed up in Liesse, doing something sinister and villain-ish.  
  
Beyond all that, I still needed to deal with the Duchy of Daoine before they decided to rebel as well. General Ranker probably had it in hand, but I had the feeling a Callowan being there for the talks would make things go a bit smoother. I had a dozen fires to put out across the Empire, I simply couldn’t spare myself or Masego to chase Skitter down.  
  
And yet, I had the inkling feeling at the back of my neck that if I left her, things were going to get much, much worse. She was headed east of Aksum, with some giant scorpions. Weird, but not overtly problematic. Besides pissing off the local Trueblood, she hadn’t caused too much trouble. In fact, I’d probably buy her a drink for it. She wasn’t starting a rebellion like apparently everyone else was, so why did it feel like she was just as important as the other fires burning across Callow and Praes?  
  
I looked to Masego, who had left the scrying bowl and returned to one of his many lab spaces.  
  
“Masego, what am I missing here? Skitter feels important, but I can’t place why.”  
  
He worked, rearranging various bits of what looked like crystals. “Magically, she’s not particularly special beyond her extra-dimensional origin. Power wise, she’s strong, but there are most certainly stronger. By all reports she’s laid low since disappearing until recently. I’d venture she’s purposefully avoiding importance even.”  
  
I stated simply, “She wants to avoid getting involved.”  
  
He nodded. “Most likely. She remained hidden until she rescued those people. Likely she has a strong set of convictions that prevented her from leaving them. We told her much about Stories and Roles before we were separated.”  
  
I filled in the gaps, “She probably fixated on that. She’s avoiding them intentionally then.”  
  
“That would be my hypothesis. She might be working under the assumption that getting involved would work against her chances of getting home.” He carefully arranged a small array, which was interrupted as another bit of goose fell off him into it, prompting him to restart the process.  
  
“Is she right?” I asked.  
  
Masego drew a deep breath in, taking a moment. “I don’t know Catherine. I barely got a chance to study her.”  
  
I reworded my concern, “Is it possible?”  
  
“Yes,” he replied. “It is also possible that the right story could expedite her return home. We cannot know with the information we currently have.”  
  
“Could she cause us problems? I mean right now, while we’re handling everything else.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows incredulously, actually taking the time to look at me. “She has advanced knowledge of many technologies and a power that is equal to a middling Name. Beside her obviously great academic value, she would be exactly the kind of potential threat that my father would take notice of.”  
  
“Or Black.” I added, my frown deepening.  
  
Apprentice merely nodded, “Or Black, yes.”  
  
Well that settled it. My intuition aside, the last thing I wanted was to have Black think I couldn’t clean up my own messes. Besides being something I was supposed to be above, it would be embarrassing to get a beginner level lecture on responsibility from him. It would last hours and he’d be either unbearably smug or annoyed. Both were uncomfortable.  
  
I gave my farewells to Apprentice, leaving him to his studies as I returned to the keep. I needed to send someone after her. A simple runner wouldn’t do, half the Wasteland was on fire or besieged. Apprentice was too valuable to send, regardless of her potential academic value. Hakram was almost perfect for it, but losing him would be like losing my right hand. I’d be without him for some time and I wasn’t sure I could afford that. Aisha was great at organization, not so much at tracking someone down in the middle of a war or five. Ratface was better at tracking people who didn’t want to be found, but I needed his frankly concerning ability to manage our supply train for the Fifteenth Legion. Juniper was obviously not even an option, I couldn’t do half of what she managed with our troops. Similarly, I couldn’t just send a detachment. I’d need every body for retaking Summerholm from the Fae bastards.  
  
I felt the air chill as I remembered the cost of my stolen power. Six times the coming of my mantle. Six months to destroy the Summer Court. That was the cost of the powers I had stolen from the Winter Court.  
  
I needed someone competent, who I could trust to avoid roving bands of both Fae and rebels. Someone fast, able to travel light and quickly. Someone who could find a powerful not-Named and have a chance of getting out alive if things went sideways. Someone savvy enough to not immediately piss Skitter off if they did find her. Someone with the skills and knowledge to get her back here as well.  
  
“Hey boss, what’s the look for? Some Praesi piss you off again?” Robber asked, the small goblin having turned the corner as I approached the center of the keep.  
  
Hmm. Four out of five wasn't bad.  
  
I smiled.  
  
Robber immediately took a half-step back.  
  
My smile grew.  
  
“I didn’t do it! It was that miscreant Borer who thought it’d be funny to replace your wine with aragh! I’ve told him he needs to keep it in check, but he never listens boss. I told him, I did,” Robber frantically tattled.  
  
He stole my wine? _That little-_ I only had a few casks of the stuff left, given that it was from Dormer I wouldn’t be getting any more until I ousted the Fae. All the more reason, really. Running half a kingdom had taught me the value of good alcohol and a lot of it. It made my decision a bit easier, however.  
  
“No, Special Tribune Robber, I’m not here for that. I have a special assignment for you…”  
  
Robber, for his part, looked equal parts eager and concerned.  
  
I was sure he’d find the motivation to remember where he left my wine somewhere along the journey.


	14. 2.3 - Taylor

### 2.3 - Taylor

  
  
“One of the many exciting properties of mega-arthropods in the Wastelands is their ability to overcome the square-cubed law and maintain respiration and structural integrity. It’s hypothesized that much in the way the sentient tigers are able to faithfully reproduce, the permanent changes made to the original spawn some three centuries back were inheritable.”  
-Excerpt from “Fauna and Flora of the Wasteland”  
  
  
It turns out giant scorpions do not float.  
  
I fought against the current as my world spun. The collapsed ground had opened way into some sort of underground river. I had had to abandon my mount, which was currently doing even worse than I was at staying afloat. The other scorpions were drifting further apart in my awareness as they either got slowed down or sped past others, the rapid current playing with them like toys. I was worried for the people I had rescued, but frankly I could do little for them, I was barely staying above water myself. I had to hope that they knew how to swim, or that some had avoided falling in. I had been at the front of the pack and only eight of my scorpions were in my range down here. I sputtered, getting another breath full of air before I was plunged beneath the surface again. At least I always knew which way was up, my swarm sense allowing me to reliably head towards the surface.  
  
The river twisted and winded, quick turns often slamming me into the side and sending me under again. Each breath was a fight that I was just barely holding onto. Thank god my fitness had gotten better since becoming a villain and while traversing the Wastes. Half a year ago I wasn’t sure I’d have had the strength to survive an ordeal like this. The river dipped down, flying over a small waterfall and I had to twist to avoid landing face first, my legs scraping against rock instead. I couldn’t see anything, we were well underground and not a mote of light was present. It was fortunate I had spent some time blind. I had lost most of my swarm, but there were still bugs and a few small aquatic creatures down here I could use to orient myself. The giant scorpions fell out of my range, their weight slowing them down as the river carried me further and further away.  
  
In the back of my mind I was worried about how the hell I would get out of here. I didn’t know much about geology, if that was even the right subject, but where did underground rivers typically let out? Would I have air the whole way? I certainly couldn’t manage to make my way back, the current was far too strong and there wasn’t really a shore to traverse from what I could sense. Up ahead I sensed the current getting even faster, the ceiling narrowing and coming down. I panicked a bit, taking in a huge breath right before the water rose and I went under.  
  
I couldn’t sense anything above me. When I reached up I could feel stone, not air. I had no choice but to hold my breath until there was an air pocket. Hope that there was an air pocket. The river raged, I had to be picking up a fair bit of speed as it accelerated through narrower and narrower passages. Right as my lungs felt close to bursting I was ejected out mid air, the water gushing into what felt like a lake below me. A quick gasp of air filled me with relief as I fell into the water. The current here was easy and gentle, surfacing again wasn’t the struggle it had been before.  
  
My swarm sense filled me in on the area. The lake had a few inhabitants, all of whom I used to scout out the area. The lake was somewhat wide, a good sixty feet in width from my estimates. The current was gentle and there was an outlet near the opposite end. The center of the lake went quite deep, maybe a hundred feet or so, and there was a small bit of shore on one side. I immediately swam for the shore, my muscles were aching a bit from the journey here. Being bashed against rocks along the way hadn’t helped.  
  
Having solid ground beneath my feet was a relief. I could still feel the ghostly sensation of the current when I closed my eyes. I was really coming to hate the Wastes. So far they had nearly killed me a dozen times over, at minimum. The bastions of civilization among were hardly what I’d even call civilized either. And it was damnably easy to get lost. My swarm sense helped with that, but the endless expanse of deserted and ruined land was filled with enough leftover sorcery and experiments to confuse even me at times. I remembered the week early on where I had lost my bearings. It had taken another full week to get back on track and my food had run perilously low.  
  
Still, I had managed. I had taken food from Marchford and it had lasted me a good while. Squire had said the food was available at my need, after all. After that stealing had worked. I hadn’t liked it, but I picked targets who wouldn’t miss it much. It seemed the Dread Empire was filled with rich assholes, which at least left me with no shortage of pickings. A bit of food to last a week, a bit of coin to buy for a second week and I hadn’t needed to take that risk too often. Unfortunately I doubted my rations were any good after being soaked like that. If my phone battery hadn’t given up the ghost already I’d have been concerned for it too.  
  
I felt around with my swarm. Not much in the way of useful things here. A crab scuttled over and found something that felt like wood. I shifted more of my paltry swarm over and yes, there was a few planks of wood, a bit further along the edge of the lake. If I could get over to that, I might have something to hold onto for the rest of the journey. I might even be able to carefully lay on top of it and avoid having the jagged rocks cut my legs up again.  
  
Well, there wasn’t much point in waiting around. I could eat a few of the crabs if it came to it, but staying down here wasn’t going to save me. The only way out was forward, or at least I had to hope so. I waded back into the water, paddling over to where the wooden flotsam had been snagged. My swarm shifted as I felt something move in the center of the lake, displacing the small creatures near it. My mind immediately went to the Watcher in the Water from the Lord of the Rings.  
  
_I’m stuck in a deep underground lake in a fantasy world. Of course there’s a monster…I fucking hate this place._  
  
I felt it shift towards me, slowly and cautiously. I couldn’t just stop swimming, I’d sink. Neither could I head back to the shore, it was a small spit of rocky land. At best I’d be stuck there until I dealt with the beast. At worst, it’d attack me there anyway. No, if this world wanted a piece of me, I was going to take a piece of it back. I unsheathed my knife from its holster and gathered my small swarm around me. The creature was big and water wasn’t my natural element.  
  
A flash of an idea came to me and I coalesced my swarm around me. I swam towards shore and stopped when I was knee deep, staying stock still as my swarm trundled onto shore. A loose pile of crabs and some midges made a very poor swarm clone, but it worked. The creature probed closer to shore, appendages reaching out underneath the water towards where my swarm had gone ashore. In a violent burst of motion it struck, tentacles flaying my swarm apart, crushing some of it. I felt where the creature's center was, lurking nearby as it tried to feel out what it had flayed.  
  
There was no body for it to find beyond a few dead crabs, however. In its confusion it lurked closer, scouring the small spit of land for the larger body it must’ve sensed. It rose close to the surface and I leaped, knife plunging down into the body. Immediately I felt a tentacle slam into my back, trying to pry me off, but I had my hand under some sort of ridge in the creature’s face. I held on tight and pulled the knife out, quickly stabbing it in rapid succession, my swarm biting into its appendages. A tentacle slammed against my side and I felt my body buckle, but I didn’t stop stabbing. It slithered back down into the water as I held on. My knife had gouged deep wounds into it and I pushed and twisted the blade, trying to reach something vital. It flailed, several tentacles smacking against me, trying to rip me off. I pushed the knife deeper still. I had a lot of pent up anger from the last few months. _I am done with all of these stupid abominations in this stupid Wasteland._  
  
The resistance to my knife lessened and I felt it slide into something soft. The creature sagged underneath, its assault on my back stopping as it began to sink. I pulled my arm free of the gorey mess and swam back to the surface. The wooden debris wasn’t hard to find again and I was lucky, it came loose with only a few firm tugs. It was just large enough that I could sit on it and while it sunk a little, it stayed above water so it was good enough.  
  
As I paddled towards the exit I brought my swarm with me, crabs hanging onto the underside of my makeshift raft. I couldn’t help but think that my whole adventure had seemed like something out of a fantasy book. The thought made me scowl. I was trying to be careful about that kind of thing. I had seen enough of this world to realize that life was as harsh and unfair here as in Brockton Bay. If I got involved in the wrong story, I’d die here just as surely as if I had jumped off a cliff. A few weeks after I started roaming I had noticed people watching me. Always one at a time. Over time, I had noticed them less. I was certain it wasn’t because they had stopped, but because they had figured out how to elude my swarm sense better. I caught one every now and then still, but it had me worried.  
  
If I was being honest with myself though, I was getting impatient. I had already interfered in Aksum. I had fought the monster in the lake. I could see a story shaping around me. If I couldn’t avoid getting sucked in, I had to make sure that whatever narrative was forming favored my return home. I paddled onwards, the more gentle current being kinder to my raft than the river from before.  
  
This river had to let out _somewhere_...


	15. 2.4 - Catherine

### 2.4 - Catherine

  
  
“After much deliberation and under my authority as Chancellor, I have come to the decision that the death of Dread Empress Atrocious does constitute unlawful murder and that tapirs cannot qualify for succession of the throne under Tower Law.”  
\- Excerpt from the trial of several man-eating tapirs by Chancellor Yeenan.  
  
  
I walked up the stairs. Masego kept the scrying stuff on the second floor of his mage tower. Presumably because creatures were always on the loose on the first floor and would knock over his instruments. Usually one would be afraid of magical chain reactions when knocking over instruments but I was positive Masego took the precaution largely because he’d be more perturbed at his sense of order being upset than anything blowing up.  
  
The tapir downstairs was only further proof of why I hadn’t let him keep anything more dangerous than a goose after recent incidents. My main concern was that this was Apprentice. If anyone could make a goose dangerous, it’d be him.  
  
“Catherine,” he greeted sourly as he drew shapes in the air that left my eyes sore.  
  
“Masego.” I cocked a brow. “I’d ask about the tapir, but I don’t want to know, do I?”  
  
He snorted, “Well after you ruined days of work on the swan I had to shift to a different taxonomy.”  
  
“I thought it was a goose?” Then again, I had lived most my life in an orphanage. My knowledge of birds was almost entirely in eating them, rather than identifying them.  
  
“A goose would be wholly unuseable. You never see mages using rabbits or pigeons for a reason, some animals are unsuitable for most useful magical research,” he replied.  
  
I walked over to the scrying mirror. “You still aren’t allowed any dragons, chimeras, or really anything with more jaw strength than a goose. Is the array ready?”  
  
He tapped the wall and a door opened; he huffed as he left the room. “Oh that? It’s been on since you walked in.”  
  
I heard Black’s smug little chuckle echo out of the array. Black, or more properly the Black Knight as Juniper liked to insist, had been my mentor since shortly before I got the Name of Squire. So it was no surprise when green eyes shimmered to the surface, cold and calculating as ever. If anything, I found it almost comforting at this point, it meant he was still on top of things. However, he looked just a bit tired, which meant things had to be getting to him if it was showing at all.  
  
“Black,” I said with a half sigh. “I don’t suppose Warlock was this much trouble at his age?”  
  
Black chuckled again, “In his own way. Mages are almost always particular in some way or another. I take it you have a reason for contacting me?”  
  
“Several, in fact.”  
  
“Would one be related to a certain girl in the Wastes?”  
  
Of course he had known somehow. Three months gone and before I’d had the chance to inform him. To much to hope he had handled it somehow. Near half a dozen small wars or rebellions and he was likely up to his armpits in murder. Especially since I had been gone as I usually did a fair bit of the ground work.  
  
My lips thinned. “If she controls bugs, then yes, that’d be Skitter.”  
  
“Skitter.” He took a moment to weigh the name. Those green eyes were impossible to read at times. “I was a bit concerned a hero had slipped through our net, but she wasn’t following any of the bait we put out until Aksum.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware the Gods Above think that insect control is particularly heroic,” I retorted.  
  
“They don’t, usually, but just as you or I don’t particularly fit our namesakes all the time neither do heroes," he said. “It’s rarer, true, but antiheros and the like do exist. The conditions weren’t right for one, however.”  
  
“Which is how she caught your interest. I take it she’s been behaving then, since you haven’t had her killed.”  
  
He raised his brows in a bit of surprise. “Correct. Though she’s more dangerous than you think. Assassin has been tailing her. Said he hasn’t had this much trouble stalking a Named in a decade.”  
  
I guffawed, “What? You’re telling me she gave Assassin the slip?”  
  
“Not quite,” he corrected. “Think of it like this. She is aware she’s being tailed, if not aware of by whom. On the other hand, you’ve met Assassin face to face.”  
  
He let me fill in the blanks on my own. I’d met the Assassin. Except I didn’t know, until now, that I had. Well fuck. I had been right in front of a Named and not even realized it, but Skitter was apparently able to notice the Assassin when he was trying to not be found. I had no lack of respect for her capabilities before, always a fatal flaw for a villain, but that certainly adjusted my mental estimates of her.  
  
Black awaited my response. He did love making little moments like these into teaching opportunities.  
  
“Alright, so she’s smarter than I thought. You said she wasn’t following your bait until Aksum, so I’m correct in assuming you’ve already vetted her?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
Right, things were falling into place. Black had his Eyes across all of Callow, Praes, and beyond. Part of their job was to keep track of the conditions needed for Names to arise. Orphanages, farmhands whose family was killed by nobility, mysterious disappearances of bastard children, all that kind of thing. The Calamities, led by Black, had worked to reduce to the conditions that spawned nascent heroes, and sometimes villains, for decades. Where they couldn’t, they killed them before they could become a problem.  
  
Skitter was avoiding his network’s bait, which meant she was working outside those patterns. That would be the difference between having Black’s attention and having his interest. He was patient, so he must have been waiting and watching. An absence of a pattern could mean a new pattern, which was important.  
  
“And I suppose you already know everything about her,” I followed up.  
  
“We inquired with Juniper in your absence. Warlock had a very lively conversation with Apprentice before you came in,” he said.  
  
Ah, that explained the earlier mood. My disapproval was something Masego could easily shrug off. Warlock’s, however, was a tad more serious. I didn’t get along with Warlock even when we agreed, I couldn’t imagine his attitude if he was actually angry. Masego probably got off easier than I did, but still. Actually, I wondered what kind of punishment you got when your father was the Sovereign of the Red Skies. Masego probably was never hit or sent to the priests I’d guess. The image of a young Masego forced to sit through a sermon at the House of Light had me snickering.  
  
Black gave me a flat look.  
  
I cleared my throat, turning it into a cough. Very smoothly of course.  
  
He was doing that thing where he didn’t talk because he wanted me to fill in the blanks. “So you’re watching her because she’s not falling for the usual. When we spoke to her all she wanted was to go home. Did Warlock say if he could help with that?”  
  
Black shook his head, “Warlock is tied down at the moment. You’re missing the key point. It goes beyond that-”  
  
The image flickered and twisted.  
  
“Then shut it off if you have to-” Black said and the image cut out entirely.  
  
I was sure Black was fine, but I disliked not being able to finish our conversation. There was more going on than I was aware of, which frankly wasn't new, but was always frustrating. Black was pretty good about filling me in when he could, but he had decades of experience on me. I needed to catch up faster if I was ever going to be able to be anything more than the Squire.  
  
I had wanted to tell him about Talbot, how I had re-founded the Chivalric Orders despite those being very distinctly outlawed. Now I’d have to wait until later and hope that the little bit of treason I had done didn’t bite me in the rear. Who was I kidding, of course it would. I’d just have to plan for that. As long as Black and the Empress knew I wasn’t conspiring to start a sixth war, they wouldn’t do anything to undermine me.  
  
What that all meant was that I had two thousand of the best cavalry in Calneria and a need to make sure the Tower knew I wasn’t pointing them in the wrong direction. I also so happened to have the largest Legion in the Empire, the ability to make portals through Arcadia for fast travel, and a lot of stress to work out on whoever I went after first.  
  
I was having a rough week, but I was reassured knowing that very soon someone else was about to have it much worse.  
  
  



	16. 2.5 - Taylor

### 2.5 - Taylor

  
“It’s easy to separate a fool and his money once, but a fool on a loan scheme will pay dividends for time eternal.”  
\- common Taghreb wisdom  
  
  
The ride down the river was long enough that I had gotten hungry and picked through what little of my rations hadn’t become an inedible soggy mess. Some of them were only damp and kind of awful, but not wholly ruined. It was vaguely reminiscent of Leviathan and how my tolerance for water-logged things greatly increased when there was nothing better to be had. Only vaguely though, as the beast I had killed wasn’t half as scary by far. Thankfully I hadn’t learned of anything so far in this world as bad as the Endbringers.  
  
The river was a gentle, but steady flow now. As it moved me along I felt more bugs than the usual wasteland fare drifting into my range. Not just a few either, but an entire horde of insects suddenly blossomed into my presence. The kind of density I’d come to associate with cities, where modern sanitation hadn’t yet come. A few more plagues and they might make more permanent shifts in that direction like we had.  
  
I felt out with my power, looking at what I had acquired. The usual fare of house flies, cockroaches, and the usual scourges of cities. And a metric ton of spiders. Literally. Probably more.  
  
_Why did spiders get that big?_  
  
Why was the sewer filled with them?  
  
I thought the giant scorpions had been dangerous enough, but there were thousands of these. More all the time too if I was right about what I was seeing through a few, a cavern full of body sized egg sacks. They were larger the further down they were, the younger and more juvenile ones living near the sewer entrances. As I drifted along the current more and more came into my range. Over ten thousand, easily. The city was much larger than my range as well. There had to be well over a hundred thousand of these monstrosities. Who the hell built a city on a massive colony of people-sized spiders?  
  
_Praes is insane. Absolutely, utterly insane._  
  
Hell, if I couldn’t control them this might just be scarier than Leviathan. One big monster you can kind of avoid. A nigh unstoppable swarm of thousands of giant spiders had a lot more immediate scariness. Well, I assumed it would. I hadn’t been much afraid of insects even before my powers. I watched the spiders go along their normal routine after my brief interruption. The smaller ones gathering refuse from the sewer and ferrying it down. A complex series of tunnels that led further down to where the larger ones lived. It was almost like an underground city. Rooms were clearly marked out, spiders ferried things back and forth. It felt like an ant hill, where there was a level of organization above the intelligence of the things making it.  
  
My raft was quickly approaching a huge sewer grate. Evidently this river was one of the sources of water that fed into the city’s sewage system, carrying off its waste. My makeshift raft wouldn’t fit between those bars. Or, it might, but it would be tight and I didn’t want to risk capsizing into fresh sewage. The smell was drifting upstream and it was the most rank thing I had ever smelled. I tried to tighten my mask but the air was thick with the stench of human waste. I pushed to the side, stepping off my raft right before the grate and taking some small refuge to the side. The smell was only a little better here, but I’d take anything I could get.  
  
The good news was that I was no longer lost in an underground river with no hope of reaching the surface again. I also had a swarm that would make Nilbog green with envy. The bad news was that I didn’t know how to get up into the city. I had to assume it wasn’t easy, no one just left unblocked manholes to a sewage system filled with giant spiders. That actually made me think about how people got into sewers in medieval cities. I didn’t know, it wasn’t something that was routinely taught in American high schools. Was I looking for manholes, staircases, doors? There had to be a way in case of emergencies. But then again, this was a world of magic and giant spiders. Maybe they just sealed it off and let the spiders sort it out.  
  
I brought the closest spider over to the grate. I figured I’d be able to ride it and avoid getting sewage all over myself. The smell would still be awful, but being covered in it would actually make me vomit. I had been covered in a lot of stuff since getting powers but I drew the line at millions of tons of raw sewage. The spider approached the grate, squeezing to fit through the thick iron bars before promptly sizzling and keeling over. The air around the grate shimmered and I had my answer for how they kept the giant spiders in. Some sort of magic ward that evidently didn’t like spiders.  
  
Could I get through it was the stickier question. It was definitely harmful, it had reacted with my would-be steed vigorously enough to require me to get another. If I touched it to find out I was in for a nasty burn at least. On the other hand, I certainly wasn’t going anywhere but forward. My best bet was that the wards kept things in, but not things out, or that they were spider specific.  
  
There was no point in waiting around any longer. The stench wouldn’t get any better. Getting burned wasn’t nearly as scary as the prospect of being stuck with that smell. I stuck my baton out tentatively for where the air had shimmered, edging along the lip of the stone wall that formed the grate. My baton passed through cleanly and I worked my offhand towards the unseen barrier. I was cautious, not sure if I was through it for a few inches until my hand was definitely on the other side. Okay, that was good. I could pass through the magic barrier, so I could get closer to the city.  
  
Get into the sewers, find a way into the city. Get into the city, find if this city had any mages worth a damn and see if they could take me home. I even had incentive now for them to help, namely giant spiders. I would’ve preferred handling it more normally, but if they wouldn’t play ball then neither would I. From what I had seen, Praesi didn’t play ball. They pretended to play ball, then stole the ball and tried to extort you for the ball back, all while trying to stab you in the back so they could get even more from you. They could help me or I’d beat them with the ball until they got some better sense.  
  
I carefully stepped through the gap, one foot on the lip of stone and the other reaching out for the giant spider. I didn’t want to get it too close and fry another one. I wasn’t sure how sensitive the magic was and I didn’t feel like spending spiders on what was ultimately a very temporary problem. I maneuvered onto the spiders back and headed deeper into the sewer. Large webs covered most of the tunnels, trap webs in the tunnels that didn’t have obvious ones. I grimaced as I noticed one of the webs had a few corpses in it. I couldn’t imagine who would enter the sewers, but evidently it didn’t go well.  
  
It also, unfortunately, answered part of my question about how the spiders got enough food. Between sewage and the occasional fool that would subsist a fair number of them. It still seemed a bit too low and I had to wonder if there was more to it. I couldn’t sense all of them at the same time, the underground labyrinth was far too large for my range to cover, either horizontally or vertically. The city above me stretched out, equally large. I could tell it must be one of the larger ones, the houses were made of good stone and the streets wide. People bustled around and while still a bit filthy, it was on the cleaner side of places I’d been so far.  
  
I had looked at the map I had pilfered while on the raft, but it turns out parchment doesn’t do particularly well when soaked. There had been an ink splotch east of Aksum, which was presumably where I was now. I remembered the name was something like Aper, Aber? Something short with an A. It was one of the large cities marked on the map and had had walls on its drawing. It looked special, so I wasn’t too surprised the city was large.  
  
I let my steed take me deeper into the city, trying to find a more central location. I was getting a good mental map of the city and the upper level of the sewers from my swarm as I moved along. My power encountered a hiccup as I moved more centrally. There was a particularly giant spider that I could sense, but it didn’t feel right. It was like when Panacea had messed with my bugs, my power was giving me some nasty feedback when I tried to look at it. I quickly switched to looking through the many eyes of the spiders around it. The massive spider was shifting, agitated. It filled a central dome shaped room, which was filled to the brim with eggs waiting to hatch. It looked about, propping itself up and looking almost intelligent.  
  
Oh that wasn’t good. Were some of the largest spiders actually sentient? My powers were restricted to bugs and a few crustaceans, simple things. It was very possible something too complex would fall outside my power. The massive spider was moving about with surprising speed as it investigated, trying to talk to the spiders under my control by tapping the ground in regular patterns.  
  
I made my decision in an instant and the spiders swarmed the massive one, biting down into it as I sent more from adjacent tunnels to help. The massive spider tore through them, none were quite the same in stature. I pushed hundreds of spiders at it, overwhelming with numbers where strength wouldn’t do. The spider began to stagger and sway as the tide of bodies took its toll. I had to assume these spiders weren’t poisonous or at least immune to each other as the bites seemed to only hurt it if they went deep enough. I had smaller spiders scale the walls, I would distract it with the assault and then go for its head when it couldn’t defend.  
  
The massive spider pounded the ground and the shockwave knocked down some of my swarm. Holy hell, this thing was a tier above even the giant spiders. Somehow it managed to look angry and was raising some of its legs above its head where the air shimmered and hurt the eyes of the spiders I had look at it. _ Okay the spider does magic. I hate this country, I hate this world_. I wasn’t about to wait for it to finish whatever it was doing. The larger spiders that hadn’t been knocked back leaped forward and at the same time the smaller ones on the ceiling descended. Most were knocked aside or crushed, but one of the smaller ones landed next to the spider’s head and I commanded it to drive its fangs in and tear.  
  
The massive spider writhed and I forced the smaller spider to continue biting even as it was torn apart. The spider collapsed as fluid leaked from the massive wound, shivering and then disappearing from my awareness. One more fucked up surprise from Praes to me was handled and dead. I had transiently considered the spider might not need to die, but it definitely had been intelligent and dangerous. If it had taken issue with me usurping its swarm, I wouldn’t have had the element of surprise. From how many spiders it took to kill it, that would’ve been dangerous. So far nothing in Praes was particularly friendly, so a giant intelligent man-eating spider was not something I was giving the benefit of the doubt.  
  
For the thousandth time I thought: _What is _**with** this country?  
  
  



	17. 2.5a - Interlude

### 2.5a - Interlude

  
  
“Call my garden a dung heap one more time Elise and I’ll eat your eyeballs straight out of your skull. Don’t think that I won’t. Yeah, not a snide little remark about orcs now, is it?”  
\- Willow, wife of Alfred and one of the few Orcs to engage in interracial marriage with humans. Later secretly pardoned by Amadeus, the Black Knight.  
  
  
“**Expose**,” he uttered silently. The girl was beneath him, traveling through the sewers. He could feel where her awareness had holes in it as he invoked his Aspect. More than that, he could tell where to strike. Injuries she had taken that had never healed quite perfectly, slots in her armor that a blade or arrowhead could slip through. He usually preferred to handle his targets at a distance. After all, why risk being caught in the act when he could leave a few traps and be weeks away when they sprang? The flashy kills were only to make a point.  
  
Every abnormal death became his in word, if not truth, due to them. The true skill was in the deaths that were both perfectly suited to their target and never known. Those were the kind of deaths that made him….well, him. He took no special joy in killing; he was not quite as morbid as Warlock in his opinion, but he was a professional. There was satisfaction to be had in doing something right, even if no one else would ever know.  
  
The girl was traversing the sewers and distinctly not dead. He had tracked undead before, he could tell the difference. That month he had spent in Keter, the undead kingdom, was still something he held over Black’s head when he was feeling feisty. Amadeus, the Black Knight, was an old friend, but even he could ask too much sometimes. Naturally Amadeus hadn’t asked something so short-sighted as to kill the Dead King. He had simply wanted to see if he thought it possible.  
  
He was giving it fifty-fifty. Being king of the dead made one immune to a lot of the more commonly-peddled forms of death, but if all he had were common forms of death he would call himself a goblin and be done with it. Hye, the Ranger, could handle it faster, but she had long since been both the strongest and most mercurial of them. Keter was stable, though, and it attracted roving bands of adventurers frequently, which meant fewer going to Praes.  
  
He was of the opinion that this wasn’t the interesting way of handling it, but his votes for doing things the interesting way had been vetoed four hundred and twenty seven times to date. Notably, seventeen times had been approved. Oh and the times those had been. He was sure that Mercantis would have rumors about him for a few decades.  
  
Black hadn’t asked him to kill the girl.  
  
“Do the usual. Try not to kill her if you can help it. Warlock wants to study her once we’re back,” the Black Knight had said.  
  
The usual, of course, included the caveat that if she became too much of a threat to Praes that he was to eliminate her. He had gotten good over the years at taking fledgling, and even more mature, Named out. One way was to hit them when it was the most anti-climactic. No one died gloriously while on the toilet from food poisoning. There was no strength in their narrative to fight off the mundane, the trite. The Heavens only provided so much protection to those on their side and even Named could die from tripping on a brick.  
  
It was a lot less common before his era, but the point still stood.  
  
Sadly he was going to have to retire the brick trick soon. One or two more farm boys heading off on quests to save their family dying from a strategically placed brick and people would cop on. He had done a lot of work calculating the maximum number of times a given trick could be used before it became a pattern. It limited his toolbox and speed, but as long as he kept within the math then his actions were random noise. Nudge over that line and patterns could be derived, certainties could start to occur. Thus, his more visible, patterned murders, a complex series of trails and false flags all to hide the true extent of his actions. Some would call it overkill, but he had seen some of the monsters that hid in the corners of the world. Even killed a few, at great effort.  
  
If anything, he should be even more careful.  
  
The girl was definitely alive down there and given her penchant for insects and his Aspect, he was pretty certain she had just taken control over what might be one of the deadliest armies in Calernia. Shame the dwarves wouldn’t take care of her. They had given up on the area beneath Ater after the giant spiders had made it clear they weren’t leaving. The dwarves, much like the Empire, could’ve driven them to extinction. The thing was, it would cost far far more than that little spot of underground was worth and every year they had dragged their feet on deciding whether to do it, the task became harder.  
  
He groaned, his disguise as an average laborer not drawing any undue glances. That meant he’d have to deal with her. If she was a normal fledgling Named on the fence he would offer her a deal, like he had with Thief. She was a larger problem, though. Beyond being a bit on the heroic side, she was an outsider. He knew he could end up being the scary monster that that the new outsider trounced to establish herself. If he failed to kill her, it could set him into a pattern of three as well. If he didn’t kill her now, when she was still finding her way, it would be an order of magnitude harder later, however. Offering her a deal meant giving up his best chance at eliminating her if need be. Eliminating her meant risking several very unfortunate patterns. This was why he preferred bricks. Failing to die to a brick didn’t set up a story, it was just common sense.  
  
He definitely couldn’t let a girl with heroic tendencies bring an army of half a million spiders out into the capital of Praes. Malicia would have his head added to the Hall of Screams if she didn’t end up dropping the Tower on them to take out the thousands of spiders. He liked his head, even if the current one had a few pockmarks and was rather ugly. To boot, Malicia might actually be able to get his head and keep it. The Dread Empress had been with the Calamities before her rise and she was just as dangerous as any of them. Except Ranger.  
  
Oh, that Ranger.  
  
He would have preferred to consult Black, but the situation could go south within a few hours depending on what she did. This, most offensively to his practical sensibilities and personal sense of safety, required both alacrity and directness.  
  
He was getting distracted, though. A habit of his from spending so much time with his own thoughts. Regardless, he needed to act quickly. He slipped down the side street and headed for the closest entrance to the sewers. A ward and lock lay over it, but such mundane protections were like wet parchment before him. He moved through them as if they weren’t there, descending into the sewers. The cloying smell clung to him and he was thankful it wouldn’t follow him when he ditched this body. He could feel where her awareness covered, large sections of the sewer and city within a certain distance were all zones that tingled in his awareness.  
  
He had tracked her for over a month now though, and he knew how to move between her swarm undetected. Her swarm was intelligently directed and intelligences made patterns, had habits. Her swarm was more predictable when it was controlled than when it did as it wished. If it could be predicted, it could be evaded. Still, the gaps were small and the tolerances fine.  
  
Not the hardest he’d ever faced, but she would certainly be a unique challenge. One he would’ve loved to have stalked and laid a trap or six for, but given her meteoric rise in threat rating he’d have to do this the old fashioned way. No narrative protected her yet, no Name beyond her strange insect control. No reason to underestimate her either. No, he would never.  
  
The Assassin hummed a tune silently in his head and slipped between the awareness of two spiders through a gap too small for any human.


	18. 2.6 - Catherine

### 2.6 - Catherine

  
  
“That is complete and utter bullshit and you are never, ever allowed to use that in the same city I’m living in. Hell, what would we even need that for?”  
-Tattletale, on the properties of goblinfire  
  
  
“How’s Robber doing?” I asked Hakram idly as we lounged in Laure’s Royal Palace. Lounged implied we were being lazy and unproductive, which was true, but I would need something that sounded more important. Planned. Plotted. Schemed. No, way too tacky. Reposed? Oh, that could work. Maybe the old military one, retired.  
  
“Surprisingly not dead, according to the latest report,” the orc gravelled as he lifted the scroll he was reading. I was tempted sometimes to offer him honeyed wine for his throat, but it was reality that orcs just sounded like they were choking on rocks most of the time.  
  
“Well that’s good, I can’t afford to replace him until Thief follows through on actually giving me my treasury back,” I replied. That had been a sore point, her stealing it while I was gone that was. We had had a…talk. It was a good talk. The kind that hadn’t even ended with anyone stabbed. Practically downright almost a little friendly.  
  
Hakram was shifting through a pile of parchment scrolls. It was a personal miracle that I had him, since my patience for mounds of paperwork got worse every month.  
  
He said, “He and his tenth have reached Aksum, where Skitter was last seen.”  
  
“And the dark guilds?” I asked in return.  
  
“Ratface was able to acquire several representatives of both the Smuggler’s and Assassin’s guilds,” he answered in turn.  
  
That was good. I’d need all aspects of Callow under my control if this was going to work. Laure was quelled, the dissenters that had holed up in the Royal Palace hadn’t taken more than a quarter bell’s work. The dark guilds were next, though a small item. After that was Duchess Kegane, of Daoine. The Duchy had always been more of an ally than a proper subjugated region in Callow and that deal had been extended to a degree when Praes took control. Now the Duchess had the entirety of the Watch, the famed army that held the Wall against the orcs and invaders, sitting right across the border from Callow into Daoine. A tad more important than a few smugglers and assassins, and all the more reason to take care of them quickly.  
  
I got up from my chair and gestured to Hakram to follow. We headed for the emptied warehouse where Ratface and a tenth of legionnaires were waiting. In the middle, under careful watch, were a number of men and women tied to chairs. Ratface gave them chairs. The boy was too kind. If I had sent Robber to deal with this lot I would’ve been surprised if the ground wasn’t aflame when I came in. Then again, if I had sent Robber I wasn’t entirely convinced he would take them alive. His reports for enemy casualties were always filled with ‘accidents’. I had never met a goblin around whom so many men tripped and fell into their own knives a dozen times.  
  
I looked down at the cowering figures. Most of them seemed distinctly afraid, I could smell it wafting off them and that Fae part inside me wanted to reach out and taste it. Now that was a bit concerning. The title of Duchess of Moonless Nights had come with a lot more baggage than I had expected. And that was with me fully expecting to get screwed over by the Fae.  
  
I squinted up at the moonlight shining through the loose roof tiles and felt that same irrational hatred as before. Yup, fear made me peckish and I still had the weird hatred of the moon.  
  
“Foundling,” Ratface greeted me with a weary cheerfulness.  
  
I favored him a small smile. I didn’t have many in me at the moment, but my old friend deserved more than that. “Ratface,” I said, gesturing to the captured men and women. “They look in remarkably good health, I hope you didn’t coddle them.”  
  
The Special Tribune chuckled. “Unlike some of our friends, I know ways to scare people that don’t always involve leaving them bleeding and incoherent. Isn’t that right, Liston?”  
  
The darkly clad man -_of course the assassins wear all black_\- at the right side glared at him before slowly nodding. Well now, wasn’t that interesting?  
  
“You know who I am,” I said bluntly to the assembled associates of the Smuggler’s Guild. I could tell because they were separated from the Assassin’s guild in both being much more afraid and not dressing in all black.  
  
“Lady Foundling,” a man addressed, rather quickly. “Surely this is unnecessary. If you wanted to talk we can certainly set up an appointment, at your convenience of course, in our offices. I apologize if the Empire is under the impression that we have not upheld our ends, but I assure you that any transgressions have been misunderstood.”  
  
I raised my eyebrows, frost settling on the ground around us.  
  
“You are under the impression that I care about the previous terms. If you know who I am, then you know that’s a dangerous mistake to be making,” I cracked my neck, the loud cracks were something that I could make happen reliably and worked as a handy trick.  
  
He looked like he wanted to talk with his hands with how he squirmed reflexively. “Ah, yes, you do have a reputation for rather unorthodox strategies. Forgive me for saying so, but I was not aware that you had the authority to renege on the previous deal, you see…”  
  
I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment in irritation. Of course he’d be a talker. I had a legion to portal across Callow and a Duchy to potentially put down. Smooth talkers and con artists were not something I had time for. I glanced at Ratface and nodded. One of the soldiers lit a fuse and placed the bomb to the far side of the warehouse.  
  
“I really don’t have time for you right now. So here’s what’s going to happen” -I paused to let the explosion pass over us as green goblinfire started to climb up the far end of the warehouse- “you are going to hear my terms and carry them out, or I’m going to make sure that the rest of Callow undergoes a series of similar, unfortunate and tragically preventable warehouse fires. Understood?”  
  
His eyes panickedly tried to look back, but he couldn’t turn far enough to see the flames. Not yet at least. He took a moment, weighing his options, before quickly nodding. “Of course!”  
  
I pointed to Ratface. “You will liaise with Special Tribune Ratface, whom I think you’re already acquainted with. I want supplies gathered for my legion. We are at war and either you are an asset or a liability. I’m short on patience for the latter.”  
  
Ratface, for his part, smiled and the man shivered slightly. What had he done? Somehow he had taken inspiration from something worse than the Fifteenth's goblins, and they were essentially a roving swarm of gleeful murder.  
  
I turned to the assassins, the frost settled more heavily around them. Smugglers were a kind of necessary scum that existed everywhere. Assassins, while also prevalent, had a lot less leeway in my mind.  
  
“Your subordinate has already made your views on our guild’s existence abundantly clear,” he stated, a small nugget of uncertainty slipping through.  
  
“Good, then you know how much I’d like to just wipe your entire guild off the face of Callow.” It was true, I had considered it before all of this. Unfortunately I was at a point in my life where a country spanning association of murderers for hire was pretty much on the bottom of my threats and priorities list. If they didn’t say something about how deep in shit I was, I didn’t know what would.  
  
The woman chuckled darkly, “You would not be the first to try, or to fail.”  
  
I stepped forward and kicked the seat of her chair, sending her toppling backwards and skidding towards the flames that were crawling across the ground.  
  
Ratface winced. “Sorry, thought I weeded the back-sassing ones out for you.”  
  
It was thoughtful that he knew I wasn’t in the mood for backtalk today. Ratface always had an eye for detail, both when it came to logistics and to people. I waved him off. “There’s always one. It’s practically a rule.”  
  
Hakram nodded sagely. “If there was only one guy left, it’d be him. This is why you always grab two or more.”  
  
“Now where were we? Oh right, burning your guild down if it doesn’t cooperate.” I asked the one who wasn’t currently burning in unquenchable goblinfire. Absolute shame it was so impossible to put out. The rebels in the Royal Palace had tried my patience in the same way and they were currently strung up crucified in the town square. To the woman’s credit, she didn’t scream, as I expect the smuggler’s would’ve or how the traitors in the square had. This guild was made of slightly sterner stuff.  
  
The man sighed as he spared a short glance back. “We’re open to a new working arrangement.”  
  
  



	19. 2.6a - Interlude - Robber

### 2.6a - Interlude - Robber

  
_"What do you mean earnings before interest doesn't mean infinite earnings as long as I don't care?"_  
-Dread Emperor Insolvent  
  
  
  
Robber hooted and jeered from atop his perch on Borer’s head, his feet scrambling to find new purchase as a bump threw them into the air for a moment. Borer, for his part, twisted his head so that Robber’s toes couldn’t find purchase in his eye sockets. A practical move, but it did allow Robber to straddle the back of his head unceremoniously. The only thing that would’ve made this entire venture better would have been if he could see Borer’s face at the same time. Short of some sort of spell from the wizard’s get that just wasn’t possible though.  
  
Or a mirror, he supposed.  
  
The raft bucked again as they took the underground rapids at breakneck pace. The tenth of goblins he had brought with him cheering again as the entire thing tilted at a precarious angle. They’d found the last known sighting of Skitter and what little that had been left in the way of her tracks. Giant scorpions weren’t a subtle mode of transit, but even for goblins the great shifting sands and wasteland could be difficult to track through. Say nothing of some of the horrors that slept there. Say nothing, for no small number were specifically activated by saying something. No small number of that small number were gone now, largely because Robber couldn’t keep his witticisms to himself and he had desperately wanted to know if sharpers worked on them. They did, wonderfully.  
  
“Row faster, my minions, faster!” He shouted over the crashing sounds of the river.  
  
His sappers were putting their backs into it, slap-dashing the water with their makeshift oars. Skitter’s tracks had disappeared into the sinkhole and so into the hole they went. That it had a raging river was only a temporary detriment, as they had the questionable virtue of seeing challenges as opportunities. He had the _very _justifiable excuse that they needed to make up time if they were to catch up to her, and so any and all risks were acceptable.  
  
Lieutenant Itcher tried to call something out from the front and he leaned forward to hear her, Borer nearly tipping over as he did.  
  
“Ceiling!”  
  
Up ahead the ceiling of the cavern was rapidly dropping in height. Hells Below, he might even have to get off Captain Borer’s head at this rate and that was plain unacceptable.  
  
“Lieutenant, that ceiling is assaulting-” he shouted, nearly being thrown free as they bounced off another rock, “-my formal office atop this vessel! Handle it with Legion proctol!”  
  
“Aye, aye sir! Engaging enemy combatant!” She shouted in reply.  
  
The sapper slung her pack over to her front and withdrew a few charges, twisting the caps and chucking them ahead into the river. The charges floated well ahead of them into the darkness, hard to pick out even for goblin eyes in the dark, frothy waters. If this stunt worked, he might actually get to end of the river without the raft being destroyed, which would be a first. If not, they were all going to have to rapidly learn how to construct a raft which could work underwater. A stupid idea anyway, how would one keep all the nice airy bits in and all the wet, sloshy bits out?  
  
The river churned and heaved as the explosives went off up ahead, obstinately trying to destroy the sapper’s pride and joy, their raft. The ceiling cavern was looking a touch scorched, but not particularly lower in any way that would let Robber both stay on Borer and keep his noggin intact.  
  
“Abandon ship! Officers and those with bribes first!” He called out, taking the chance to push off Borer and plunge into the water. The superior dark vision of goblins was necessary for survival in the Grey Eyries and it certainly helped him avoid the jagged rocks that would’ve happily skewered his skull otherwise.  
  
He had to admit, so far this chase was more fun than he expected.  
  


\---

  
“All I’m saying boss, is I’m not going in if this doesn’t count as hazard pay,” Rifler said with mock seriousness.  
  
Robber shook his head, “You lot know that if you don’t fill the form out beforehand that you’re not eligible for hazard pay. Try to pass a bad form and Hakram will eat your eyeballs.”  
  
Itcher protested, “There’s no option on the forms for giant spiders!”  
  
“Or for widowed giant tentacle monsters!"  
  
“Or for rapids related injuries!”  
  
Hustler spoke up, “Actually that one falls under watercraft associated hazards. Third page.”  
  
The group grumbled for a moment as they worked out exactly where on the form that had been. Robber watched with amusement as they got increasingly technical on what was and wasn’t acceptable for Legion paperwork.  
  
Captain Borer spoke up, “The Legion isn’t responsible for that as you weren’t wearing your Legion mandated headgear at the time.”  
  
“That’s ‘cause our glorious leader used it to gag that bloke back in Aksum and never gave it back.”  
  
Robber puffed his chest out, “All gear is used to the greatest effect for Legion efficiency.”  
  
Something crunched and the entire tenth went still. A giant arachnoid head peaked around the corner and within the span of a second was filled with five different knives. The spider crumpled back and his tenth quickly pressed themselves against the walls and shadows. The speed they had knifed the spider at nearly brought a sentimental tear to his eye. It seemed like just yesterday he had them dodging crossbow fire to get their reflexes up to snuff.  
  
He whispered lowly, “Quiet now, think we might’ve woken something.”  
  
  


\---

  
  
Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten all those stolen Praesi rations before coming down into the sewers. But if they didn’t want to be eaten, they shouldn’t have been so stealable. His stomach was rumbling a little, upset at the offensive gesture he had made to it by offering it even the least upsetting portions of what passed as food in Praes. Why he was worried about a little grumble and rumble, however...  
  
Robber was, for the rare time in his life, just the ittiest bittiest tinsiest bit scared.  
  
Not the kind of scared he got when trying to hit on the Senior Sapper, but more akin to the scared that happened when one of the old Matrons took a distinct interest in a low born goblin and not even in the harem sense. The kind of scared he had thought he'd moved past and forgotten. That..._zesty_ awareness of his own place in the world, not in a fast-paced explosive demons fighting way, but in the completely outclassed and not even fun way.  
  
A poor sapper he’d be if being a little scared had ever stopped him, though. He had worked through what few fears he had at the tender age of two, as most goblins with any significant phobias didn’t make it past three. Too easy to exploit, too quick to kill. Except thalassophobia, but that came with being a race that lived in landlocked caverns. Still an absolute kick when they found out a sapper was afraid of open water. Praes didn’t exactly have a navy to rival the Thalassocracy, but sappers could still find themselves out on open waters. Or in open waters, if other goblins found out.  
  
The reason for his tactical concern was a tea party.  
  
Possibly the weirdest tea party in existence and he had been forced to sit through tea with Hakram twice now.  
  
Up ahead of him, around the corner, was a large circular chamber covered with the webbed trappings typical of the sewers of Ater. The room had the corpses of several giant spiders spread about, large swaths of it covered in freshly laid web. Stone tiles on the floor and walls were cracked from some great impact. In the center a small round wooden table had been set up with two mismatched chairs pulled up to it. Two figures sat at the table, across from each other. Ninety degrees to each was seated a giant spider, a cup of tea placed before each of the four creatures at the table and a small pot in the center. The two more humanoid figures were actually the worrisome part. One was quite obviously Skitter, between the cloak of insects, the docile giant spiders, and the overall vibe. The other was what looked like a distinctly average laborer and moved like one. If not for the fact that he was sitting at the table without a care in the world, Robber never would have pegged him as unusual.  
  
Probably not some poor sap she just kidnapped for tea time.  
  
In fact, if Robber were a betting goblin, which he frequently was because betting was easy to rig, he would bet a month’s worth of wages that was Assassin in the flesh. Or whatever the Named was made of. Something he doubted his knives would do much to. Not that he was supposed to knife superiors. A proud goblin tradition that hadn’t been accepted into Legion doctrine. He would petition Catherine when he got back. He flashed a silent signal back to his tenth of sappers. They would stay back, covering him. There was no way in any of the Hells below that he was bringing a tenth of goblins this close to those two and expecting any level of stealth. Dodging the patrols of spiders had been tough enough work. He was pretty sure they had been made at least once before they had realized the spiders were under her control and had shivved one.  
  
That didn’t mean she knew where they were now. He hoped she didn’t otherwise he might have to throw one of the privates at her and book it. Might need a second one for Assassin. And a third. Fuck, there went his whole tenth. He liked the traitorous little lot.  
  
The two were speaking and he strained to hear from his shadowed alcove.  
  
“You know it’s a weird kind of relief to have someone to talk to again. Even if you did try to kill me.”  
  
“Nothing personal, I hope you understand.”  
  
“I hate that. Nothing personal. As if a fight to the death is just some sort of business transaction. Never have I been trying to kill someone and had it not be personal.”  
  
“My apologies, I’ll make a note of that. I hope the tea goes some way towards mending our relationship after that little tussle.”  
  
A sharp laugh, bitter. “I feel like it’s wrong to answer that, but yes, it has. I suppose the Squire sent you?”  
  
A brief chuckle in response. “Ah, not quite. I’m here on behalf of the powers that be. You have a giant spider army and we have an Empire that, for the most part, could very much do without giant spiders. Naturally, you can see the rub.”  
  
“Funny that. None of this would be a problem if your subordinate, or whatever she is, hadn’t pulled me here. So why should I play ball with you? I know I didn’t exactly stick around to chat, but I find it a bit funny how you manage to track me down as soon as I have an army.”  
  
Robber did not like the sound of that. That was the kind of sounds people made right before they launched into a speech about rights and injustices and tyrants and then starting a revolt. He had two options: interfere or book it. He was of a mind to do the former, if only because he didn’t often do the latter until he had blown someone up. Still, Assassin had fought Skitter and decided to make nice. Where did that leave him and a tenth of goblins? Well, tied to a post covered in fresh blood in the middle of the Lesser Steppes would be a better situation for one.  
  
The conversation had quieted and Robber wanted to hear as much as possible. Either way he needed to know what he was dealing with. He shifted his weight silently, turning his head so that his ears were better aligned with the direction of the sound, trying to eek out a little more volume. As his head shifted he looked up slightly and saw a tiny spider descending from a thread, spinning around. The spider spun and looked straight at him, stopping dead. Robber froze in the shadows.  
  
Several giant spiders in the room turned directly towards him.  
  
Robber, in a flash of pettiness, craned his head forward and ate the tiny spider. It was the least he could do before he chucked a brightstick into the room and booked it. 


	20. 2.7 - Taylor

### 2.7 - Taylor

  
“I killed nine tenths of them. What’s the compliment of decimate? Nonimate? No, no, that sounds inane.”  
\- Dread Empress Triumphant, upon quelling of the Chain of Hunger  
  
  
  
I was still rubbing the spots out of my eyes when the first of the spiders returned, dragging back a profanely cursing bundle of webbing. I was long past relying on my eyes to see, but getting flashbanged was still unpleasant. Assassin had disappeared in the flash, reappearing moments later across the room. Clever, that one. Our fight had been a stalemate for good reason. For one, his Aspects were bullshit. I couldn’t manage to do any lasting damage to him, whatever body he was using was some sort of puppet or mask for him. He couldn’t manage to do any real damage to me, as I had far more spiders than he could cut his way through. After the initial skirmish, it quickly became apparent that it was going to be a long, difficult fight for both of us. He had suggested tea in a surprisingly pleasant voice and that had lead us to where we were now.  
  
Which was getting blinded by goblins, of all things, apparently.  
  
I had detected them earlier in the day, but Assassin's ambush had saved them from a more dedicated pursuit. I was controlling my spiders, the ones furthest out were closing off escape routes, meticulously shutting off sewer passages and working inwards. By the time they made it to my swarm they’d already be trapped. I was harrying them from behind, but after the third sharper went off I was getting annoyed. I had plenty of spiders, but the constant traps they left behind to cover their escape reminded me of Mannequin. I pushed them harder, bringing up the harrying force even as I lost spiders to trip wires and explosives. The goblins only had so many of their grenades, however. I had thousands upon thousands of spiders, they had to know their situation was hopeless. Then again, goblins seemed universally unhinged here. Maybe they didn’t.  
  
It didn’t matter, my noose was closing around them.  
  
While I worked I spoke to Assassin, “Friends of yours?”  
  
“I imagine most friends of mine wouldn’t throw a brightstick in my face,” he replied with dry wit.  
  
“If not for the fact that it was clearly nonlethal, I’d suspect another of your tricks.” He had seemed honest, but anyone named Assassin had to be good at faking it.  
  
He spread his hands out, “I appreciate your patience. Most Named don’t tend to be as understanding.”  
  
I thought on that. Most of the Named I had encountered so far had all been, circumstances being what they were, fairly reasonable people. They were open to negotiations, they admitted to mistakes. They were just people with powers, much like capes. Yet if I were to believe them, and all that I had picked up in Praes so far, then apparently the rest of the world was full of insane Named who played their tropes so hard that they were incapable of compromise. The series of past Dread Emperors and Empresses seemed like impossible caricatures.  
  
“So I’ve heard. If not your friends, then who are they?”  
  
Assassin strolled over to the wriggling mass of webbing that my spider had hauled over. He bent over, taking a look at the still cursing goblin that had gone suddenly silent upon seeing him.  
  
“Hmm Legion gear. Not one of Ranker’s lot, wrong side of the country for most. One of the Fifteenth’s I suspect.” He nudged the goblin. “Is that right?”  
  
The goblin nodded to Assassin slowly, shooting a look my way that involved teeth. I honestly had no idea what that was supposed to mean. The Fifteenth. It had been awhile, but that Squire’s Legion wasn’t it? That meant they had sent someone to track me finally. I had my ear for their languages back, which meant Apprentice was likely back. If they were moving, perhaps Squire was back as well then. Took them long enough, I had nearly crossed the entire country while they had played off in fairy land or whatever. At least now I was in a significantly better bargaining position.  
  
I was just about to capture the rest of the goblins when something gave me pause. They hadn’t tried to blast through the other end of the trap. They had barricaded off a side passage that was a dead-end. They couldn’t possibly hope to hold out forever. Were they thinking of making a choke point and hoping I’d give up after enough losses? Foolishness if so. I set my spiders to work taking apart the barricade, losing a few to yet more sharpers. As I broke through the room filled with fire and light, stone crashing down on the spiders at the front. The passage was blocked off by the collapse now. It’d take longer to get through, but I’d still get them, so why…  
  
Ah.  
  
They were going up. They must have blown a hole in the roof. I wasn’t sure if they had blown enough of the roof out to get out and into Ater or if they were buying time, but if that was the case I had to give them some credit. I wouldn’t get through that much stone before they exhausted what munitions they had or escaped. It was a good plan, one I had overlooked in my newfound strength. Lucky too. The area they were trying to surface into was far enough that it was out of my range. I was too deep underground to reach the surface there with my current range. I had one of them at least.  
  
The goblin was pulled over to the table and plopped in a chair, glued to the seat by the fresh webbing. I sat back down, gesturing for Assassin to do the same, though he was already moving back to his spot. The goblin looked at both of us in what I assumed was wariness. Honestly, it was hard enough to tell with people sometimes and now I had to navigate a bunch of races which didn’t even have the same facial structures.  
  
“Tea?” I asked. The giant spider hover behind him, a single leg reaching out to carefully slip through the handle of a cup of tea and hold it in in front of him.  
  
The goblin showed his teeth in a grin again, “I’ll pass, frankly I don’t want to even know what you brewed down here to make that.”  
  
Ah, another banterer. Lovely. Well, at the very least I wouldn’t have to try and drag the information out of him that I wanted. The spider lowered his cup back down.  
  
“So, mind telling us what a bunch of goblins is doing here?” I wasn’t thrilled about the flashbang, but I’d let it pass for now.  
  
The goblin tried to puff himself up, his being glued to the chair only helping the resemblance of a particularly ugly pufferfish. “Robber, Special Tribune, Lesser Lesser Footrest.”  
  
I furrowed my brow, “What? No, just tell me why you’re here.”  
  
“Robber, Special Tribune, Lesser Lesser Footrest.”  
  
Assassin chimed in, “I think he’s doing a bit.”  
  
Robber, surprisingly, spoke up, “Yeah I’m doing a bit. Truth is, Squire sent me to find you once she was back. Tiniest bit peeved that we lost you like a newborn spider-pup.”  
  
I groaned internally. Not at the Squire bit, but that I had forgotten how annoying goblins were. The blowing up my spiders I could understand, that was practical. The constant backsass was coming back to me. As was the theft. And the murder. Right, I hadn’t been a big fan of goblins. Pickler had seemed okay, if almost manic like a Tinker.  
  
I gestured to Assassin, “Well, you’re a bit late.”  
  
Robber huffed, “He had a headstart and the Gods Below, that’s cheating.”  
  
“If we might return to the subject at hand?” Assassin offered me a way out of that line of conversation and I took it. Even my short past exposure had made me keenly aware of the futility of interrogating goblins. I nodded for him to go on.  
  
“You wish to return home. We have no reason not to help you. Having a hostile Named with a spider army in the middle of the Empire is hardly what Amadeus would call a sound tactical decision. However, it may take some time, especially given the current situation. I think we’d all sleep sounder having some sort of agreement in place.”  
  
I surveyed the progress my swarm was making on the rubble. Slow going to move giant rocks, even for giant spiders. I couldn’t complain too much, given that with the bugs I was used to from Bet I would’ve never been able to do that sort of thing.  
  
“What sort of agreement?” I remembered my negotiating tactics. Always make them work for what they wanted, try not to give away what you’re willing to settle for. All that stuff.  
  
Assassin shrugged, rolling his shoulders loosely. “Primarily? A truce. We’re happy enough to feed and house you like before. Now, if you wanted us to devote more resources towards getting you home, we’d need to free up some of the manpower we’ve got committed to the various rebellions and Fae...and you do happen to have a significant army.”  
  
“I’m not overly happy making peace with a country that uses blood sacrifices. Your side has painted the heroes as a crapshoot, but I have no reason to trust you on that,” I replied doubtfully.  
  
Robber cackled, “I’m sure you’ll have loads of heroes lining up for you. Giant spiders, always dresses in black...You’ll definitely be popular.”  
  
He wasn’t wrong, as much as I hated to admit it. My image was one of the lesser reasons I couldn’t be a hero on Bet these days, but it definitely had never helped. I couldn’t think of a classic story where my kind of powers fit into the heroic side. If I was thinking of stories as a form of rules or physics here then that was a risk. They weren’t hard rules though, or not always. I had some leeway to work with.  
  
“Siding with villains certainly won’t help me either. I’m not so sure I want to cut off an option I haven’t even seen yet.”  
  
Assassin gave an acquiescing nod, “It will limit your options, yes. I won’t pretend this is some sort of ultimatum where you have to pick one or the other. I think you should consider that you need protection though.”  
  
That got my interest. “Protection from what?”  
  
“You’re powerful, not just in your abilities but in your origin. Not all the powers that be in Calernia will want that kind of power to survive and you have little protection from esoteric magics or some of the more powerful Named. Imagine if, for example, Warlock were to take issue with you. What defense could you muster against the sky raining down fire and brimstone?” Assassin explained, methodically and politely.  
  
I chewed that over. A Named magician would be hell for me, I had no sense for magic or how it worked here. It’d be like fighting a Tinker, but a dozen times worse. I remembered my conversation with Aoede before I had fled Squire’s hospitality. A deal, one connected to the side of heroics. One that didn’t require me to turn down the villains. I disliked it for many reasons, but following with it would keep my options open. If I didn’t want to honor it then it would be easy enough to never bring it up again.  
  
“A truce,” I started, slowly. “I can agree to a truce. I don’t want to end up being your lapdog, fighting whatever fights you don’t want to lose soldiers on. Here’s my offer: you tell me who your biggest problem is. I take care of it and you immediately start work on sending me home. No heroes, no tricks. If I get the sense this was some sort of gambit to fuck me over, we’re through. Good?”  
  
“Good.” Assassin gave a nod and leaned back in his chair, sipping from his cup. “Did Squire ever tell you of an Akua Sahelian?”  
  
Robber began to cackle with what was definitely a mixture of malice and giddiness and I was suddenly left wondering if this deal was as clever a plan as I thought.  
  
  



	21. 2.8 - Catherine

### 2.8 - Catherine

  
“Curse your…extremely delayed and underwhelming betrayal…”  
\- Last words of Chancellor Allonius the Second, after being betrayed by the Heir  
  
  
  
I cradled my head in one hand as I read over the missive. It had taken a week to get to me, information being sent piecemeal through scrying relays and then compiled by Ratface into a coherent letter. The receivers had been spread out as far as reasonably possible and we’d had to wait a full two days for the last to arrive. That it coincided with the day we were due to open another gate into Arcadia couldn’t be coincidence. Fate never played nicely when it could throwing a giant wrench into my plans.  
  
I looked over to Hakram. The orc was sitting as silent and stoic as ever, waiting patiently for me to get to the point of voicing myself. He was a good friend like that. Despite being possibly the busiest person in all of Callow he still managed to let me take a moment without the barest hint that his time could be better spent doing something.  
  
“The biggest question is does this change our plans?” I asked.  
  
I’d have killed for Juniper at the moment, but she was busy heading south to help pacify the countryside during what was supposed to be our diversion into Arcadia. Summer would pull back in full the moment an army headed by a Winter mantle started marching through it. That was her window to secure some of the less fortified cities from their skeleton garrison. Selling the plan to Duchess Kegan in order to bring her twenty thousand Watch along instead of starting yet another rebellion had been a critical step, but it had banked on the promise of Akua being on the other side of our jaunt.  
  
Hakram gravelled thoughtfully, “It doesn’t need to. Regardless of her success, Summer needs to be ousted. This was our best option for it. If she fails she’ll still have bled Liesse enough for an easier siege afterwards.”  
  
He was right. If Skitter managed to take Akua out that still left Summer holding half of southern Callow. I was skeptical of her ability to take out Akua if only because the story didn’t match. Akua and I had a strong connection as rivals, as much as I hated to admit any connection to her. That should leave both of us relatively safe until we got the chance to finally have a showdown. If Skitter was to face her as someone with no meaningful connection, she’d be weaker for it, even if Robber’s assessment of frankly ludicrous amounts of spiders was correct. On the other hand, even a strong story could be broken with enough force.  
  
Either way Hakram was right. Our plan didn’t need any major adjustments. Summer needed to be taught that invading Creation had consequences, the kind that ended up with their heads on pikes. The last few weeks had been endless running around putting out fires, followed by constant bickering between Marshall Ranker and Duchess Kegan after we had managed to convince her to not commit suicide by Praes. Getting to actually stab someone without it screwing up negotiations was going to be downright cathartic at this point.  
  
“Right. Then we continue as planned. Give Robber orders to stay with Skitter, preferably with her permission. We’re going to need to know what happens,” I said.  
  
He laughed gently, “She’s annoyed you enough to warrant forcing Robber on her?”  
  
“Maybe if I’m lucky she’ll house train him,” I replied.  
  
It would’ve been nice to have him back but frankly him and a tenth of goblins weren’t going to change anything here. We’d get by with a slightly lower rate of shanked Fae scouts, especially given how Ranker’s Legion was goblin heavy.  
  
“We’ll need a plan,” he said.  
  
He meant for dealing with Skitter of course. We couldn’t just close our eyes and pray that the girl with a spider army wouldn’t decide to go the Praesi route and expedite her return home by taking the country over. If she was clever, and I had the impression she was at least insightful, then she’d be making contingencies for the same. There was a bigger issue than either of us though.  
  
“Will this accelerate our timeline with Procer?”  
  
Hakram grimaced. “Hard to say. The First Prince needs time to secure her grip over the Principate this soon after a civil war…”  
  
I picked up on his trailing edge, “But if a sufficiently big and scary army of monsters comes knocking, they might get their act together more quickly. It certainly makes a hell of a story.”  
  
“Procer has a strong tradition of Heroes built around repelling hordes. One of the major factors in the formation of the Principate was the pressure coming down from the Chain of Hunger.” He replied.  
  
Well shit. That was ominous. Malicia and Black had been working behind the scenes for years to sabotage attempts at a unified Principate and it had failed. Cordelia had come out on top and with the Augur beside her she had proven difficult to dislodge. Skitter could end up giving them the rallying cry they needed sooner than we were ready for by her sheer existence. I highly doubted Procer would believe a nicely worded missive about how we weren’t raising an army of spiders and that we actually were trying to get rid of her as quickly as possible.  
  
The question was, what could be done about it? She wasn’t going away anytime soon unless Warlock managed to figure something out. We couldn’t expect her to stay stuffed in Ater’s sewers with an army that size at her beck and call. Besides, she’d already be marching by the time any orders made their way back to her. Restoring order to Callow was necessary for us to resist the Principate anyway and she was accelerating our timeline there.  
  
At the end of the day, the problem was that she could drive the story in the worst possible direction for us despite the practical benefits she could bring. Malicia wanted a stable Praes where there wasn’t a Crusade knocking on its doorstep. I wanted a stable and semi-independent Callow where the Wastelanders didn’t bleed us dry. Having the story shift to be one of an evil army swelling inside the Empire was the prelude to a conquest, not to stable and steady reforms. It was a classic Dread Emperor set up and, short of Triumphant, none of those had ever had any real measure of success. Hell, one of those was why we even had a giant spider army for her to seize.  
  
Dread Empress Malicia, despite my misgivings about her, was the best thing to happen to Praes in several centuries. Praes actually had a ruler that didn’t spend its entire treasury on invisible tiger armies, man-eating tapirs, giant spider transmutation, or failed flying fortresses. It was sad that my standards had lowered so much that half a dozen insurrections in Callow was considered stable. At least no one had summoned a demon this year, _if_ you didn’t count Skitter.  
  
“We’ll talk about it once everyone is back together. For now Summer still needs to be handled,” I told him.  
  
He nodded, getting up. I knew that within the bell he’d have the orders sent out. Adjutant was a blessing in how he managed to fill in the administrative and logistic gap that I never had the disposition for. I pushed myself to my feet as well, filing out of the tent. We had the tent two rows over heavily warded to prevent eavesdropping and I suspected there was half a cohort of goblins trying to listen in on what was a very dry conversation between Ratface and Killian on mage supply lines. Last thing I needed was Ranker or Keegan sticking their nose into this mess as well.  
  
Morning came as we finally began the march into Arcadia. It had taken half a week of bickering which gave me the impression that half the reason the Duchy had never been fully annexed was because of how insufferable the Deoraithe were. The other half was their history of sending the Watch to murder rulers who were thinking of it in their beds, but honestly enough people had tried to kill me at this point that the bickering counted for a lot more. Kegan needed something that Akua had and she’d play along for as long as needed if it got her army to Akua. Ranker was no longer needed at the border if there was no threat of the Duchy breaking their treaties, and so the Fourth Legion was free to support the Fifteenth.  
  
What this really meant was that they had three separate armies, none of whom trusted each other particularly much. My own habits in dabbling in a bit of treason by consolidating power in Callow under myself hadn’t exactly won Ranker’s eternal love and devotion, if goblins were even capable of such. Kegan, being the ruler of a state that had managed to maintain independence between Callow, Praes, the Steppes, and the Golden Bloom for centuries had about as much of a taste for compromise as a tavern keeper for empty purses. So it came to be that the three armies shuffled through the gateway while doing their best to not turn their backs on each other despite marching through a narrow gate requiring exactly that.  
  
I went in with the vanguard as Arcadia spread out before us, golden fields of wheat swaying beautifully in a light breeze of a bright summer's day. I took a moment to appreciate the view, since it'd likely be the last one I had before that beautiful summer day tried to murder me and enthral us all.  
  
And who said the Legion's recruiters lied? You didn't just get to see the world, you even got to see out of it.  
  
  



	22. 2.9 - Taylor

### 2.9 - Taylor

  
  
“Do not fight over what one can steal. Do not kill what one can disappear. Do not take what one can always have possessed.”  
-Goblin Maxims, source unknown  
  
  
It turned out that there were two major surprises at the start of my trip out of Ater.  
  
The first was that I had severely underestimated the difficulty of keeping two hundred thousand giant spiders fed, along with the constantly growing swarm of smaller, regular insects. I’d left a solid three-fourths of my host back in Ater. I was glad I hadn’t taken more because that would’ve only made the problem worse. I figured I could fit north of three hundred thousand inside my range with a bit of maneuvering and stacking. I had wanted to keep some maneuverability, so I had taken an equally ridiculous but slightly less dense army for my march. It was a simple enough matter to pick up any small insects in my range along the way and have them ride along the veritable horde as we crossed the Wasteland.  
  
I left under the cover of nightfall outside of the city where Assassin had been kind enough to fashion an egress in the wards. He wouldn’t be accompanying me for this trip, as apparently he was desperately needed in some place to the south called the Free Cities. He had warned that Akua would likely know I was coming, as I had no way to hide an army this large as it scuttled across the landscape. That was fine, I had more than a few surprises for this Diabolist. She sounded just like the kind of villain I didn’t play nice with, seeing people as disposable and beneath her. He might’ve played her evilness up to get me onboard, but considering how over the top all of Praes was, I had half a mind to believe him.  
  
My big problem was getting my army there without having to cannibalize too much of it. Turns out two hundred thousand spiders eat a lot. Catching the local Wasteland atrocities was providing some nourishment, but half of that stuff was things like animated stone gargoyles and spiders can’t eat that. I was getting a crash course in military logistics from the least expected source of all, which was surprise number two:  
  
That Robber was actually helpful.  
  
  
See, in addition to the spiders and small insects I also had a small squad of goblins riding alongside me. They had taken to riding spiders with surprising enthusiasm. Occasionally I’d field a request to let the spiders out of my control so they could hold jousting matches. The matches tended to be less jousting and more jumping onto each other and trying to dislodge the other goblin while a giant spider attempted to eat both of them. I had honestly expected to need to interfere more so they didn’t get eaten, but they managed to crawl and slide around the spiders adeptly. I was also apparently “their favorite person ever” for this and “definitely someone they’d back in a bloody coup for the Tower”. Something gave me the feeling they said that last bit to everyone with a giant army.  
  
Robber was the craziest of them all, and yet also the most useful. He had given me tips for foraging in the Wastes that had helped ease my supply issues. He had taught me about the Legion’s supply train doctrine and what to do when a supply train was cut. Some of it was useless to me, I couldn’t keep control over a supply train, nor did I have any of their local coin to buy enough supplies. In fact, I doubted there was a supply train on this continent that could support an army two hundred thousand strong. The most I’d heard fielded were typically less than a hundred thousand and keeping food from spoiling had been an issue even through World War II if I remembered my history right.  
  
  
Ater to Liesse was...far. I knew, abstractly, why traveling took so long before cars and trains and planes, but it was another thing to experience it first hand. One never truly respected the sheer distance between places when the fastest way to travel was spiderback. From what Robber told me, spiderback was much faster than a normal marching pace and kept good pace with horses, so I was basically the fastest army in Praes despite the mind-numbingly slow pace.  
  
I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that I had goblins to keep me company on the journey. On one hand, being alone for months on end had not been great for my mental stability historically. On the other hand, goblins. Literal goblins. Grudgingly I had to admit their sense of mischief was pretty clever. I hadn’t considered stuffing grenades into some spiders and letting the enemy find out which when they hit my horde with magefire, but that was part of the plan now. They had been particularly pleased at how many ways I could make use of the small bugs I was more used to.  
  
I suspected our cultural exchange would result in decades of insect-related atrocities being committed. Frankly? Praes had it coming. Squire was lucky I had decided to get involved so she couldn’t complain if I taught her goblins a few tricks. As it was, I was the under the impression I’d be saving her several months and thousands of men by re-taking Liesse ahead of schedule.  
  
Where did that leave me though? I was helping villains, so was I setting myself up to be a villain here as well? I was also doing it to minimize casualties and stop a literal devil summoner from taking over, so perhaps I was joining together against the greater threat.  
  
Speaking of devils, planning for fighting an army with mages and devils was a...new experience. Frankly, I was used to be outgunned and in this case I was the one outgunning. I didn’t have magic to back me up, but from Robber’s understanding I handily outnumbered the Diabolist’s forces somewhere in the range of four to one. Sure, a fair portion would be devils, which counted for a lot more than a normal soldier, but having the numbers advantage was new. I didn’t really have a past experience to draw on for this. Typically we’d been out-numbered or out-gunned and with little time to do more than react.  
  
Now I had numbers and weeks of travel time to concote a strategy. It was almost luxurious compared to life in Brockton Bay. Well, aside from the fighting devils bit. Though Oni Lee with his mask and habit of suicide bombing came pretty close in my book. I had a few new tactics tucked away that hadn’t been possible before my acquisition of Mesozoic-era sized insects, not counting stuffing them with explosives. I had my entire bag of tricks from my cape career. And I had a squad of goblins who were incredibly eager to blow something up.  
  
Overall, I was feeling cautiously optimistic about our chances.  
  
I wasn’t thrilled that I’d have to kill people. At least one. From my understanding Diabolist was a highly skilled mage who could fuck me over if I tried to keep her captured without magical restraints. She was also responsible for the deaths of quite a few people, so mentally lumping her into the Slaughterhouse Nine category helped. The soldiers on the walls, not so much. They had a choice and they chose to be there, but much like I didn’t go around murdering Empire supporters or unpowered Fallen I wasn’t going to here either. My spiders could make copious amounts of webbing and had paralytic venom. I was relatively certain I could take down the majority with minimal lethality.  
  
Robber had helpfully informed me that devils don’t have feelings or really sentience of a meaningful sort so I could have spiders tear them limb from limb without concern. Not really an image I had needed, but it was good information nonetheless. I was confident I could restrain humans, but restraining devils was so far outside my experiences that I’d rather skip it altogether. My understanding was that they were functionally similar to a Master with disposable minions. Mages were similar to Blasters, higher level mages more akin to Tinkers or Trumps. Humans were pretty much just human. Any Named was a minor Brute and Mover and then whatever their particular powerset was.  
  
Not too different in the grand scheme of things. I was working on a scale larger than I was used to, but I had never felt a limit to my ability to keep track of my bugs before, I doubted I would now. A lot of potential problems, but all things I could handle.  
  
It was at the end of the first week that we ran into someone else. I knew by the sound of Robber cackling.  
  
I didn’t bother turning my head, simply speaking through the swarm closest to him, “Robber.”  
  
  
He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Yes O’ Creepy One?”  
  
  
“What did you do?” I knew better than to assume goblins broke out laughing for innocuous reasons by now. They had learned to keep their pranks away from me.  
  
  
Robber turned his eyes, trying to make them big and puppy like at me. Instead he more resembled someone cracked out from home. “Me? I’m a harmless soul. Haven’t touched a fly, I swear!”  
  
“I know you haven’t, I _am_ the flies. Now tell me what’s got you cackling.”  
  
Robber pointed ahead of the column of spiders towards a bend in the river we were approaching. My insects didn’t have good enough long distance vision to make out much more than that.  
  
“I think you might have your first campaign fatality there chief. That farmer got one good look at us coming over the turn and dove straight into the river.” Robber was still in the throes of giggling. “Seems to forgot he can’t swim either. Or maybe he just liked his chances with the river better.”  
  
I groaned. Figured the way to Liesse would have people along it. Also figured that people wouldn’t just assume the giant spider army was here to fix their problems and not eat them.  
  
I spoke through the swarm, “Go fish him out. And no stealing his stuff while you do it.”  
  
The goblin pouted, which seemed to be the human expression he was actually good at conveying. “Awww, do we have to?”  
  
“Because having spiders pull him out of the river will just go swimmingly.” I managed to convey my sarcasm even through the buzzing.  
  
Robber saluted and pulled away with a few goblins. It was a sad state of affairs when being fished out of a river by a squad of murderous, cackling goblins was the least scary option available.  
  
Days turned into weeks as the barren and pockmarked expanse of the Wasteland turned into the greener, rolling hills of southern Callow. As we travelled further south we ran into our first faeries.  
  
A scouting party spotted us before we spotted them. Not overly surprising, given the sheer size of the army that was rolling through the countryside. Most things would spot us first, even Robber’s goblins couldn’t fully scout ahead of a host our size.  
  
When the faeries tried to set fire to some of my swarm is when I took issue. Those damn arrows they used ignited practically anything they hit and I had a long and unhappy history with fire-based powers. A few spiders later and we had three webbed up scouts ferried to the center of the army for inspection.  
  
The faeries were unnaturally beautiful, even roughed up and bound. The armor they wore gleamed with the light of a bright day, a sheen to it that seemed to glow from the inside. I reminded myself that while they looked pretty, they were cunning creatures that would be just as happy to trap me for an eternity.  
  
I looked down on the captives from atop my spider. One of the smaller ones, as my army went, but speed and discretion were what I valued.  
  
One spat on the ground at the feet of my mount, “We will not treat with such a foul creature as yourself.”  
  
I sighed internally. “I’m not the one shooting arrows at people unprovoked. You attacked my army. Why?”  
  
He sneered at me. “It is clear to any with eyes that you are another monstrosity. Summer will burn away such ugliness from this land.”  
  
I waved Robber over. “Right. You’re going to tell me how many of you are nearby and where or I’m giving you to the goblin.”  
  
“Petty tactics will not bow the likes of us.” He managed to spit on the ground again. I didn’t even know he had that much spit in him after being dragged half a mile.  
  
“Robber, you have permission to use the knife.”  
  
God, I hated that gaudy thing. Robber, for his part, jumped up and down in glee, yelling for Borer to come over. I had the spider let go of the webbing and stalked off as I got the army moving again at half speed. I knew I could leave the rest to them. We’d have answers by nightfall.  
  
  


\---

  
  
Brown turned to green and the lush fields of Callow gave way to the more established hamlets and farms of the south. Finally we were approaching Liesse.  
  
Robber and his accomplices returned from scouting ahead. If I hadn’t so many eyes I might have missed their approach. Goblins were uncannily silent when they wanted to be and being this close to a city full of devils had sobered up even this lot.  
  
Robber sauntered over, chewing on what looked distressingly like a finger.  
  
“Greetings, O’ Terrifying Queen of Spiders.”  
  
I rolled my eyes behind my mask. I had replaced much of my costume with fresh spider silk during the journey and reinforced it with chitin and leather. A bit more medieval looking, but when in Praes, do as the Praesi. Except for the blood sacrifices, bondage, tower of horrors, and pretty much everything except style of dress.  
  
“I told you not to call me that. Now what’s the verdict?”  
  
Robber slurped down the finger and I resisted grimacing. “Diabolist still holds the walls, but looks like Summer is about to march on her. They’ve got a whole host about to hit the city.”  
  
I furrowed my brow at him. “So do we wait it out and mop up whoever is left? I signed up for Diabolist, not fighting an entire Court.”  
  
Robber waggled his hand back and forth. “Ehhh, kind of. We can’t really wait too long. Diabolist wins and she’ll use the captives to reinforce the city. Summer wins and they’ll ensnare every living soul left.”  
  
Oh great, a Master effect in the mix. So either the citizens were stuck with being used in some sort of demonic ritual or being whisked away to faerie land. I remembered my stories about the Fae and I had the feeling they weren’t any nicer to abducted humans here.  
  
“How many are there?”  
  
“Thirty thousand or so with Summer, and at least two high ranked nobles, though my money is on three. There’s always a hidden one,” he said with a cheeky smile.  
  
I winced. Thirty thousand was not a small number, even if I did outnumber them. My impression was that a single Fae was more than a match for a single human. If I could sit back and let the two sides beat on each other, it would make things significantly easier. The downside was that the longer I waited the more likely civilian casualties were. These weren’t my people and this wasn’t Brockton Bay, but I hadn’t become so detached that I was willing to just write off a city of a hundred thousand. If anything, I was disgusted that the powers that be were playing with that many lives so casually. _ Just fodder for their Stories, right?_  
  
I hummed quietly. “How dangerous are the nobles?”  
  
Robber replied, “Not quite Diabolist dangerous, but they’d toast an average mage into a crispy little pile of cinders in a heartbeat. I’d give them a six on the Official Sapper Danger Scale.”  
  
I quirked a brow at that. “A six? What’s Diabolist then?”  
  
He nodded sagely. “A seven.”  
  
I gestured towards the direction of the city, not quite visible from where we had camped the army. “If the woman who has captured an entire city and raised an army of devils is a seven, do I even want to know what a ten is?”  
  
Robber glanced up, “Gnomes.”  
  
“Gnomes,” I replied flatly.  
  
“Gnomes,” he confirmed.  
  
I groaned, “I hate this fucking place.” I held a hand up at the sky and flipped it off.  
  
“Okay here’s the plan. The longer we wait, the more screwed the city is, right?” Robber bobbed in assent. “We’ll wait for Summer to engage and then hit the city from the side, flanking both forces. I’ll be prioritizing taking the walls so we have cover and high ground against Summer. I’ll also be at the back, I can control my swarm from anywhere and I don’t think I’m particularly magic proof.”  
  
Robber had an eager grin, at least I’m pretty sure it was a grin, on his face. I did get better at reading goblin expressions over the last few weeks.  
  
“Can I count on your squad to disable some of the mages on Diabolist’s side?”  
  
The goblin before me was now definitely smiling and gave a loud belch, “Already on it.”  
  
Right. The finger. Ugh.  
  
I folded my arms trying to get across I didn’t approve of eating our enemies. “We’ll stick with what we hashed out before. Take as much of the city as we can, cripple their mages, move into guerilla warfare, and overwhelm them on multiple fronts. You see Diabolist, you tell the nearest bug, we take her down.”  
  
“Can I have her scepter? I want to use it for our reenactment night.”  
  
I roused my army from its rest and started the process of moving it forward, the sound of chitin hitting ground filling the air with a low, immeasurable thrum. One hundred and seventy-five thousand giant spiders skittered forward, hundreds of thousands more in small bugs clinging to their abdomens. The entire bug population of a southern Callowan forest was added to our might.  
  
“Sure, why not?”  
  
  
Today, we marched on Liesse. 


	23. 3.0 - Catherine

### 3.0 - Catherine

  
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, so let’s see where bad intentions get us.”  
-Collections from the Fifteenth Legion, popularly attributed to the Black Queen.  
  
  
  
I yelled at Indrani, “Archer! Cavalry!”  
  
She ducked under the swing of a halberd, long knives flashing into the side of the golden clad Immortal. The Immortals wielded halberds in a single hand, tall shields in the other, and were the toughest Fae short of nobles themselves. That we had several thousand trying to cut through the center of the Fifteenth at the moment was why I had sallied out with the rest of the band. Thief and Archer had done good work stealing some of the banners, but at least four were still up. Each banner was a source of power for them, allowing the golden Fae soldiers to cut through my men like wheat during a harvest.  
  
Archer rolled out behind Hakram, who was holding back the Immortal line with an axe in each hand. Even half a dozen Immortals couldn’t find a way around him without having some extremity feel the cut of his axes. She took the space he made for her and pulled her bow out. Arrows flew in a steady rhythm, a constant stream of fire taking the flying Fae cavalry from the side as they moved to descend on Ranker’s Fourth Legion. Ranker’s legion was sapper heavy and sappers wouldn’t last long if that cavalry came down in the middle of them.  
  
The distraction was what they needed, crossbows turned on the cavalry contingent before it could descend and the cavalry pulled back before they could be destroyed by the crossfire. The Immortals tried to reform their shield wall before me and I threw a block of ice underneath my feet, leaping over the tower shield in front of me and kicking off the fae’s head. Winter swirled around me, angrily clawing at the edges of my mind outraged at the presence of Summer’s might. This was one of the few times my stolen Fae mantle and I were in agreement about what to do. My hand shot out, a spear of ice taking the Immortal in the throat as my sword came up, blocking a halberd from shearing through my side. My sword cracked from the blow, the tip shattering and I chucked it at the head of another soldier, grabbing the halberd off the one I’d killed.  
  
Let it be known that I did not favor polearms of any type when I wasn’t on horseback. The halberd was too long to be easily workable in such close quarters, which was why I had been forcing my way into the thick of the Immortals. They worked best as a line to grind through my men and with our Named spread amongst them they weren’t able to form a coherent shield wall. The battle was going better than expected, actually. The Fae had brought more troops to bear than expected, but not by much. Forty thousand had marched on our combined forces once we had crossed into Princess Sulia’s lands. Southern Callow had to be nearly empty of Fae, which was a small blessing since the gate out of Arcadia that was at their backs went there.  
  
The idea had been, all things considered, rather simple. By marching through Arcadia we saved months and could make it to Southern Callow in time to prevent it from being entirely fucked. Crossing through Summer meant we’d naturally draw their attention and pull them into Arcadia. Looting everything that hadn’t been nailed down along the way probably had helped encourage their return. I couldn’t control where the exit to my gates formed, but by making camp by it we had ensured the Fae would push us then. They’d _think_ that we were trying to retreat and they’d be able to harry us while we trickled through the gate. What actually had been the plan was a bit different.  
  
A second gate, courtesy of Masego’s kidnapped Duke of something or another, had allowed the Order of Broken Bells to enter Arcadia. Three thousand knights in full plate had collided with the Fae flank at the same time as Winter’s Prince of Nightfall brought his twenty thousand to bear from the other side. While the Fifteenth, Fourth, and Deoraithe couldn’t go blow for blow with Summer, they had quickly turned what had looked like a slaughter into a three way pincer on Summer with superior numbers. Given that Summer embodied warfare, it meant that all in all we came out with a slight advantage. As long as Ranger didn’t decide to fuck us over, since she seemed to be hanging out in the distance waiting for something, we had a chance of smashing the last of Summer’s major forces here and now.  
  
For now the momentum was in our favor and I signaled the rest of the team to pull back. We couldn’t risk getting too entrenched while the Princess of High Noon, Sulia, was still on the field. The Fifteenth would take heavy losses against the Immortals but with their line disrupted it would give my troops enough of an advantage to hold their own. Hopefully the Immortals wouldn’t be able to turn the tide again until after the nobles were down. Knowing our luck, I wasn’t betting on it.  
  
“What the-” Indrani started. “Shit, duck!”  
  
I fell flat to the ground, my shield covering over my head as I felt fire wash over me. My cloak and shield kept the worst of it off me and I rolled out of the way, looking up. A fae clad in burnt stone with ochre skin and pale white hair stood above us in the sky, slowly descending. _Damn it, Winter was supposed to keep them busy._ The Prince of Burning Embers, if her intelligence was any good.  
  
As he touched to the ground I threw a wall of ice at him, a second one splitting off to the side to give Archer and Apprentice a moment. They had both looked rather scorched and the wall would also give the Fifteenth space to back off. The lines would reform around us, but neither side was going to send soldiers into a fight like this. The wall before the Prince melted into nothing and he lowered the spear of pure crystal at me.  
  
This one was going straight to business.  
  
The spear shot out lightning fast, the embers of Summer roiling around it so that even as I parried it I could feel Summer’s flame biting into me. I brought my shield up, imitating the Immortals with my stolen halberd. The Prince sneered and the spear shot forward, straight for my shield. Name reflexes saved me as I twisted behind the shield, the spear cutting straight through it even as I tried to harden it with Winter. With his spear stuck in my shield I dropped the halberd and pumped my Name into my arm, slamming a fist into his side with enough force to shatter the burnt stone that armored him there.  
  
The Prince yanked his spear out, tearing an even larger hole in my shield and planted a boot into my chest, throwing me back a few feet. Adjutant came up behind him, swinging an axe from each side. The dark-skinned fae smoothly stepped forward, the spear flying back to block both hits. I chucked the ruined shield at him as Hakram took another swing, forcing the fae to take a hit from one of his axes. The spear slid smoothly around, slashing across Hakram’s chest, as I had to duck underneath, out of stolen weapons to throw at him. Normal steel I’d have simply grabbed, my armored gauntlets and mantle were sufficient for that. Whatever empowered his spear cut straight through Legion steel and I wasn’t betting on keeping any limb I tried to block with.  
  
Without a weapon I fell back on my brawler days. The Prince tried to push his advantage against me, but Hakram was keeping his attention for a moment. Ice formed a platform that I leapt on top of. Adjutant saw what I was doing and his axes swung at the spear, forcing the Prince to parry with it. The blow broke one of his axes, steel flying into the air as the crystal rang with a strange timbre.  
  
I propelled myself off the platform, tackling the Prince from above. As my arms wrapped around him I nearly screamed from the pain. The burning flame of Summer was pushing out from his armor, trying to consume me. I pushed out Winter in return, but I had stolen the mantle of a Duke and it was no match for the raw power of a Prince. Still, it helped lessen the pain. The Prince struggled beneath me and I drove a fist into his face, gauntlet cracking from the hit. He tried to kick his way free, but while he was a first class spearman and soldier he was an awful brawler. It seemed the nobility had neglected learning how to win a fist fight.  
  
I was smaller than him, but I was on top and raining blows onto him in a way that would’ve gotten me barred from every fighting ring in Laure. The Prince pulsated with flame and I was thrown off him, landing with a crunch and a roll to try and put myself out. I was decently sure a rib or three had cracked there and that I was still smoldering. My armor, what was left of it by this point, had melted. Joints were locked in place by slagged steel and my visor had patchy vision from the drooping steel above. He had used his namesake, which had hurt a lot, but meant that we were winning.  
  
Hakram was still standing, but with the way his shoulders were squared and still smoldering I suspected he’d fallen back on using an Aspect.  
  
“Burn, mortal.” The Prince of Burning Embers was pulling the flames back towards him.  
  
I could feel something going on there, building as he twirled his spear and drew flame into it. I tried to get up to interrupt him but the melted joints stymied my efforts. I pushed myself to my feet by strengthening my limbs and shattering the ruined joints.  
  
“**Deconstruct**,” came a distant voice.  
  
All at once the maelstrom of flame around the Prince disappeared, reappearing around Apprentice at the opposite side of the field.  
  
“Simplistic at best,” he said. “Disappointing, given the potential of such a title.”  
  
What had been a sea of flames was now pillars, surrounding the Prince. Beams of flame shot from the pillars, connecting them to create a pen around the fae. Instead of burning him like I was expecting the flames drew everything from inside the pen inwards. I could feel the difference in temperature forming, all the heat within the pen was being pulled into the columns. The Prince looked wilted and exhausted, like the very flame of Summer within him was being siphoned into the columns.  
  
“Indrani, please,” Masego said while he drew runes in the air.  
  
A single arrow shot out from behind him, piercing the Prince of Burning Embers through the heart. He slumped over, falling to the ground. All of his power had been pulled into the pillars of flame, leaving him devoid of protection.  
  
Archer grinned, “That’s one way to skin a fae.”  
  
Hakram gravelled, “Skinning them makes the meat taste better too.”  
  
Right, I definitely needed to know that.  
  
I began to roll my limbs arounds, the melted steel cracking and warping as I got my full range of motion back. The helm was more of a liability than an asset at this point so I dumped it. Melted or not the rest of my steel plate might deflect a blow and I didn’t exactly have another set sitting around to change into anyway.  
  
More concerning was the matter at hand. “Masego, tell me you have a plan for all of that fire.”  
  
“I have a plan for all of this fire,” he said in an obliging way that left me even more wary than before.  
  
The flames coalesced together, the ground beneath them scorched, cracking apart into dessicated earth. A wave twenty feet high of solid flame pulsed outwards towards the Immortal lines, moving with a force strong enough to knock men over and break bones. That alone wouldn’t have been worthy of a Prince though. An ocean of flame formed behind the first wave, more waves forming as the pillars dispersed their collected power. The Prince of Burning Embers had been weak with his sorcery, most of his strength had clearly been in his martial prowess, and Apprentice was taking the opportunity to make better use of his magic.  
  
The sky became blindingly bright and I shielded my eyes. Spots dotted my vision as I saw the waves of flame draw up into the sky. A winged figure taking hold of them and channeling them into herself. I could barely make her out among the brightness of her spellcraft.  
  
“As the Princess of High Noon it is time for me to bring your abominable existence to end.”  
  
  
  
(Bonus Line: "I do not have a plan for all of _that_ fire, however.")


	24. 3.1 - Taylor

### 3.1 - Taylor

  
  
"I suppose my difficulty with maths may have finally come back to haunt me. Quite literally."  
\- General Theophilus of the Sixth Crusade, upon realizing he forgot to add his own losses to the numbers of Keter's undead army  
  
  
Everything burns.  
  
That had been one of the rallying cries of the Summer soldiers and it was woefully accurate. I watched as the outer walls of Liesse began to melt and run like water, stone turned into a molten stream as the Fae began their assault. Tens of thousands of Summer’s Court marched or flew towards the walls manned by devil and man alike. A single Fae was responsible for the walls melting apart, it was like looking at Sundancer going all out.  
  
“I thought you said the nobles were a six,” I said to Robber.  
  
Robber let out a low whistle. “Six? Lower Miezan is so weird like that. No, no, I totally said eight. Definitely an eight.”  
  
I shot him a look. “Are you saying I misheard you through my magically translated thousands of ears?”  
  
“What, you actually trust sorcery? Some soft-skinned wizard's get waves his hands at you and draws a few runes and you believe that over your oldest, most trustworthy friend?”  
  
“You aren’t any of those things,” I retorted.  
  
He pretended to check his skin. “Better not be. I work hard to keep this skin nice and leathery, just the way the gals like it.”  
  
I groaned and let the conversation fall to a lull.  
  
Had I not spent the past months stuck in the hellish landscape that was Calernia, I’d have thought myself dreaming. The scene before me looked like something out of the fantasy books I loved to read. Suddenly my old daydreams of being whisked into a book seemed a lot less enjoyable as I watched the start of the assault. The Summer host was nearly upon the defenders, who were rapidly losing their superior position.  
  
The ground rumbled and shook, great fissures starting to appear around Liesse.  
  
“Chief! We have to go now,” Robber shouted from his mount. “She’s going Triumphant on us!”  
  
I only had a vague idea of the local history, but the context gave me enough clues to put two and two together. Diabolist was turning Liesse into a flying fortress. It wouldn’t stop the Fae, given how many were already starting to sport wings, but it would ruin any chance I had to attack the city. My swarm began to move as one, giant spiders bursting from the hillsides we had stayed behind in a mad rush towards the city. The entire landscape was quickly consumed by the swarm as my army pushed forward, sprinting for the city walls. Robber and his squad were bucking and whooping up ahead, I’d elected to stay further back in my command role. Something I was regretting now. If I didn’t make it to the walls in time then I wouldn’t be able to stay within range of any spiders that got carried off with the city.  
  
Great cracks erupted from the ground as the city shook and began to slowly rise up out of the earth. The first wave of spiders hit the divide and leaped across, scrambling up the falling dirt sides as they clawed for stable ground. Great chunks of earth fell from the floating city as it started its ascent. The first wave of my swarm had reached the walls and began to burn. Magical wards that hadn’t failed when the Fae had started melting the walls triggered and cut into my swarm. I didn’t have time for finesse, the wards fell as I threw bodies at them and I ordered the spiders to start dropping web lines down from the edge. Spiders formed great chains, connecting the swarm still stuck on the ground with the city above. Others I had climb up the quickly forming web lines, adding their own webbing to reinforce and extend them. I’d have made my own mount go faster, but my swarm was already going as fast as it could.  
  
Thousands of spiders crawled up the dangling web lines, dropping more as they made their way up. The side of Liesse was covered in glistening webs, a large sheet draping down the side of the floating city, extending all the way to the ground. I pushed the swarm harder as the city kept gaining height. The edge of my army was already under attack, I could feel spiders disappear from my awareness as the defenders atop the walls rained down arrows and magic upon them. I had too many for them to stop with mere firepower, however. My beachhead on the walls was already in the process of being secured, giant spiders swarming the devils that held even as their human allies retreated. It was fortunate that the giant spiders had decent vision, it posed less of a difficulty to process what I was seeing through them.  
  
Great devils with leathery wings and large axes were trying to hold against the edge of my swarm. While it would’ve been trivial enough to overrun them with sheer numbers, I had never been in the habit of being wasteful. Three or four spiders attacked a given devil, one drawing blows and feinting while the others took out the wings and legs. Web lines were spun to block lines of sight and to bind, turning the ramparts into a maze for the fleeing defenders. The nearest tower was raining magefire down onto my swarm with some sort of protective force field blocking my spiders from crawling directly up the sides. I had my normal sized spiders grab onto the backs of flying insects, hurled upwards by the giant spiders they had been carried upon.  
  
A fine haze of insects floated down towards the mage defenders. Large portions were wiped out from my awareness in swathes but thousands still landed on top of the tower. Wasps began to sting as spiders and other insects bit into their flesh. The mages were only wearing leathers and light armor, nothing skin tight. Unlike the heroes of Brockton Bay my opponents here were woefully unprepared for my tactics. The mages collapsed in a writhing pile of bodies as they were stung and bit into submission.  
  
I was almost at the great webbing ladder. My swarm had a foothold and was reinforcing its position. Web traps were being setup in every corridor and passageway, making any attempts to push back against my forces hellish. The Summer Fae were assaulting a quarter turn counterclockwise from me, hitting a different section of the wall. My spiders lacked in long vision but I got impressions of heat and light from where they were. It wouldn’t be long until our forces began to run into each other, even if I did my best to let Diabolist and them duke it out. Fire had always been a problem for my powers. Bugs didn’t do well against fire, webbing burned, and I wasn’t particularly fireproof myself. Facing an army of fire-wielding blasters, for all purposes, was a nightmare.  
  
I was slightly better off than normal in that the giant spiders were tougher than ordinary bugs. They were incredibly strong and agile. Much like normal spiders they seemed to shrug off injuries to a decent degree, with a robust physiology. They also seemed to be slightly magic resistant. I wasn’t sure about that last bit, but more of them had survived the mage onslaught than I expected. Perhaps I was just being overly cautious in how strong I estimated their spells to be. It wasn’t unreasonable as a theory, however. The spiders had been descended from a powerful mage and had been contained with wards. They had a magical heritage and exposure, with generations of breeding it was possible they had started to develop a minor level of resistance. Far from magic proof, as the crisped and electrocuted corpses of some of them attested to.  
  
I clung to the back of my mount as we started to ascend the web roping. About half of my forces were either on the walls or making their way up. The city was easily pushing over a hundred feet up though and rising, I was likely not going to get every last spider into the city. I debated tethering the webbing to the ground and trying to anchor the city. If it was Tinkertech I’d have discarded the idea outright, but as it was I had no idea how much force the city’s magical lift generated. Could an army of spiders pull it down? I had no way to know except to try and that would involve leaving a significant portion of my forces groundside. No, it was safer to get as many as I could into the city and take control of it. Once I had control I could work on landing it, but if I was wrong and stuck too many of my forces groundside then I was only hurting my own chances.  
  
I did need to make a quick decision over what to do with the spiders at the edge of my range. Leaving ten or twenty thousand giant spiders in southern Callow was a bad idea. I knew they considered people to be food and that many spiders would be more than enough to take out the countryside if I wasn’t back quickly. My range felt a bit longer than normal, maybe half a block more, and as the groundside portion of my army started to approach my range I dialed back their metabolism, mimicking hibernation. This species didn’t naturally hibernate, but I could send them into a sort of pseudo-slumber that would hopefully last until I was able to take back control.  
  
Robber and his cohort had disappeared from my senses once they had breached the walls, scuttling into the depths of the city. Goblins excelled at guerilla warfare and stealth so it only made sense. People would be distracted by the giant spider army, allowing the goblins to move around freely and hit priority targets. I made it to the walls and sequestered myself deep in one of the two towers that were under my control now. My attention entirely on the swarm as I didn’t have to worry about falling out of range of the city now.  
  
I had never had this much information before. A hundred thousand sets of eyes looked upon every inch of the city. I saw the streets winding in front of me, cobblestone paths and boarded up shops, unlit and empty. I saw the parapets and walls, what few defenders were left near me were fleeing, mages hastily drawing runes and throwing spells in futile attempts to halt the horde. The smaller insects I had spread further out, using them as scouts and saboteurs. Mages among the human army would collapse suddenly as spiders, wasps, and beetles descended on them. At the northward edge of my army I could see Fae approaching. Inhumanly beautiful with impossibly sharp features, radiating a scorching heat.  
  
I felt all of it through my power as one. Awash in an ocean of information and actions my swarm moved as one. Trip wires made of silk were set up ahead of the fleeing defenders as my army harried them along. Devils fell as I threw wave after wave of spiders against them, overwhelming them before they could use their unholy strength to cut down too much of my swarm. The edge of my forces collided with the Fae and I started to feel my first significant losses. Fire swept over my army and left curled, charred corpses. The Fae weaponry cut through the tough bodies of my spiders like they were soft, overripe fruit. Every Fae death was costing me three times as many giant spiders in return.  
  
The edge of my swarm pulled back from its contact with the Fae. I needed to get into the city where I could entrench myself and set up traps for them. I was losing more spiders than was efficient in the initial foray. The plan was to bleed the enemy forces on each other and even if the city going flying had forced me to act early, it was still the plan. I could take on both armies, potentially, but it introduced an entirely unnecessary level of risk. I began to pull my swarm back from the walls as the last of them finished the climb. My troops scurried into the streets of Liesse, a flood of insects taking refuge in every alleyway. Webbing was set along the top of the streets, forming a patchwork cover that blocked sight from above. Whether the flying devils or Fae controlled the sky, neither would be able to effortlessly bomb my forces from above unless they were willing to sacrifice the city wholesale. If it came to that, then I’d have to adjust.  
  
I tried to avoid going into houses that looked occupied, but I was quickly finding that even many of the unoccupied looking shops and warehouses had people cowering in them. The citizens of Liesse were everywhere and I had no good options for avoiding putting them in the crossfire. More than one tried to attack my spiders. I watched as a father shielded his children with his body, swinging a long club at my soldier. I had the spider lift a leg, smacking the club away and slowly wag the leg at the father. He reached desperately for a chair, eyes wide with fear and adrenaline. I tried to speak through the insects I had in that house.  
  
“Stay calm. Do not attack. I will not hurt you.”  
  
He had the chair hoisted up, ready to strike, but stayed his hand. Across the eastern edge of the city where my forces were spreading, I saw the same scene playing out across dozens of places as I tried to find anywhere that wasn’t inhabited. Some listened to me the first, some cried and hid in corners, others had to be bound with webbing when they were unable to be reasoned with. A surprising number had weapons, from swords to spears to axes. I wasn’t under the impression that the average commoner was so well armed in Callow, but perhaps it was a cultural thing to Liesse. Was Liesse the Texas of Callow? I’d have to ask someone after this was handled. I had the feeling right now wouldn’t be the best time to chat up the locals.  
  
My spiders worked furiously, webbing up the streets and roofs to make the city hell for either side to engage within. The giant spiders were used to working underground and I had them take over the much smaller, and previously to now less infested, sewer system. It would take them time, but I started the process of digging pitfall traps under key choke points. I had originally thought that by bringing the fighting into the city I was being clever and minimizing my own casualties. Now I was thinking I had just made a warzone out of a bunch of civilian housing. If I didn’t manage to contain the fighting then I was going to end up being responsible for a lot of deaths.  
  
Crap. Running an army was continuing to be more complicated than I thought. The logistics had been bad enough, but now that I was trying to manage two shifting fronts while protecting a civilian population I was getting an appreciation for generals. They had to do these kinds of things without perfect, real time awareness of the entire battlefield. I was doing well, but much of that could be attributed to my power and to overwhelming numbers. Just because I could keep track of everything didn’t mean I knew what was the right decision after all.  
  
My forces had pulled back into the city, spreading out to infest it as I turned the city into one massive collection of traps. My spiders were harrying the defending forces, but each step deeper into the city seemed to trigger some ward or another. Magic traps kept going off, either maiming the spider involved or summoning something which had to be taken care of. I was starting to seriously regret my lack of magical support. The traps were hard to spot, most of them camouflaged with minor illusions to blend into the stonework seamlessly. While the abundance of traps was slowing me a little it wasn’t seriously hampering me. My swarm was simply too large and I had quickly taken to leading with smaller bugs or injured ones so that the traps did minimal damage.  
  
The devils had taken on the Fae, leaving mostly humans to deal with me. There was one massive devil near the north wall that was tearing through Fae. I opted to leave it alone and let the Fae wear it down. Instead my forces were tactically flanking both armies and attacking whichever looked like it had the upperhand. Mostly that was the Fae so far. The defenders had fallen back and were letting the magic traps and devils do the heavy lifting. Spiders fell against Fae arms and magic, but coordination and numbers took down their own fair share in return. Dozens of sites across the north side of the city had similar scenes playing out. Where the defenders failed entirely or fell back into the castle my spiders engaged the Fae.  
  
Summer was the polar opposite of the Diabolist in tactics and easier to engage in a sense. They liked to form proper battle lines, using their shields to full effect as mages and archers thinned opposition. My spiders were forcing them to engage in scattered pockets, splitting their formations apart. Spiders rushed from the flanks, climbing across walls or emerging from the sewers to appear in the middle of them. Such tactics would’ve been suicidal for human soldiers. Forcing their lines apart was costly, I rarely kept any spiders from the initial strike alive. The benefit was that the ratio of dead spiders to dead Fae greatly improved once I had them separated apart, fighting on a dozen fronts. The bastions and towers further from the breached walls were still firing siege weapons at the thickest knots of fighting, clearly trying to take advantage of the situation to dent both of our forces.  
  
A small explosion marked the collapse of one of the more accurate towers, lightening the bombardment. God bless those devious, horrifying little bastards. The battles would take time to resolve. Even with me micromanaging every insect in my swarm there was the simple fact that the battle had only just begun and tens of thousands of enemy troops were on each side. Now that I had secured an area for my forces to cycle through and prepare without being bombarded by Fae or mages freely, I could start the search for this Akua Sahelian.  
  
I thought I had spotted a figure engaging one of what I presumed to be Fae nobles a few minutes earlier, but it had been deep within the two enemy armies. Difficult for me to reach without routing both first. Robber had mentioned that most of the devils would be under Akua’s control, so taking her out early would make taking the city much easier. The problem was how to do that. She’d see my spiders coming if I came at her in bulk. By all reports she was insane, but not stupid, so she’d simply flee and drag my forces through magical trap after magical trap. Ambushing her would be difficult, she was supposedly a powerful mage and I didn’t have the best grasp on what that enabled her to do, but sensing giant spiders seemed reasonable.  
  
If I was going to catch a villain, I needed to do something she wouldn’t expect. No, even better. Much like I didn’t know the rules she played by, she didn’t know mine. I had to not just do something she wouldn't expect, but couldn’t.


	25. 3.1a - Akua Sahelian

### 3.1a - Akua Sahelian

  
  
“Escalation against villains is never advisable. Where morals and sanity bind you, they will be free of such fetters and be able to escalate further. Instead change tactics and undermine their momentum.”  
-Two Hundred Heroic Axioms  
  
  
Akua Sahelian, the Diabolist, smiled to herself. If her subordinates were to see it, they’d assume she had a cunning scheme laid ready. Not entirely untrue, but it wasn’t why she smiled. If her enemies were to see it, they’d suspect trickery or insanity. Even further missing the point. Few existed in the world who had stood where she did and had the appropriate foresight to understand exactly why she smiled.  
  
By all measures she should not. Her forces were beset on two fronts by overwhelming forces. Her flying fortress was breached before her masterwork was completed. Within a few days she would lose part of her remaining forces to treachery and be forced to activate Still Water. Even now she was recovering from dueling with three of the highest nobles of Arcadia. That she remained afloat at all would be considered a miracle by lesser eyes.  
  
No, the miracle, or the perverse subversion of such, would come after. Akua Sahelian smiled because she was facing her crucible. Creation had seen fit not just to send the might of Summer against her, but an unfathomably large new force. Were she some insignificant uprising she would be quelled by the Legions. Were she merely a rival for Foundling’s rise to power she would’ve been tied to defeat. But this, no all of this, meant that she was a contender. Her bid for the Tower had been made and Creation was showing its respect by replying in kind. Only those who had been sharpened to the finest of edges would cut through the challenges.  
  
Creation deigned to accept her as a challenger and she would have her rightful prize.  
  
A smart move, as she had planned to be one regardless. Foundling may have been uncouth and downright uneducated at times, but her methodology had opened new avenues for the Diabolist. Stories could be forced, they could be broken. A strong enough will was what was required. Creation would find no stronger than she.  
  
“My lady, we’ve identified the commander of the enemy force,” Fasili said.  
  
The army of giant and not-so-giant spiders had been a surprise to a degree. Naturally they had seen the force coming through sorcery, but until the last few days it had been impossible to say for certain where such a host marched. For Dread Empress Malicia to have turned the spiders beneath the capitol to her purpose was a magnificent achievement. She was the worthiest holder of her Name in some generations, making it all the more the shame her removal was necessary for Praes. Her usurpation would smooth away the last imperfections in Akua's arsenal. Iron sharpens iron, as the Praesi maxim went. She had naturally suspected that they came for Liesse, but playing her hand too early against an uncertain opponent was as good as giving them the advantage.  
  
The ritual used to float the city had been a safeguard against early intervention by the Legions. It had served equally well to hold off both of the forces attacking her now. Whilst the Fae could fly, sorcery was able to scour the skies where they lacked cover. Not all of the arachnids had made the walls in time and no such flying would be had from them. It was inherently obvious, of course, that there would be a beast master. A horde race like the Ratlings could persist without one, but this phenomena screamed for the existence of a Named leading it. A powerful one at that, rare was it that Creation had seen such might wielded. Her mind was alight with the potential if she could capture them, turn them to her will. A single point of weakness meant a single point of triumph.  
  
Fasili watched the battle lines intently. “It appears to be the woman that Apprentice summoned four moons back. She rides in the back of the host, thinking herself safe without magical support.”  
  
It had implications that now of all times was when she chose to finally make a move.  
  
The Soninke’s tone was mocking. His pride in their magical superiority was a common trait among Wastelanders, though he did not often allow it to color his tactical acumen. Still, he was a middling general despite his generous sorcerous talent and she knew that he occasionally underestimated forces with inferior magical capacity. Prejudiced, in his ways, but not stupid. He had not ordered a magical barrage because he knew that while removing the leader would send the swarm into disarray, they still had well over a hundred thousand spiders that would go feral in her city.  
  
More elegant solutions were at play.  
  
“Pull the forces back into the keep. Prepare the ritual,” she said.  
  
With a quick bow, Fasili descended from the tower to carry out the order. He’d betray her within a sennight, of course. Betraying her now would just leave him in an untenable position, but he would perceive this complication as weakening her enough to make it a viable play before she recovered. She’d already prepared the necessary countermeasures. If he played it well, he would survive and continue to serve her. If not, sharper iron would rise to take his place.  
  
She watched through the series of arrays as the battle unfolded across the city. Within minutes her forces began to withdraw towards the keep. The Fae clashed briefly with the arachnid army along the outer walls before each and every Fae simultaneously retreated into Arcadia. Akua smirked, wondering exactly what Foundling had done to force such a timely retreat. That left just her and the arachnids, outnumbered by an order of magnitude. Most of her devils had been spent holding back the Fae. A mere two hundred walin-falme remained and only one of the three great devils she had bound remained from her tangle with the princes.  
  
The spiders harried her forces through their retreat, only inflicting minimal damage as the layered wards stymied them. The wards were more dense around the keep and the keep itself was nigh impenetrable without sorcery or Named to carve through the defenses. The spiders pulled back as their loses started to mount without tangible benefit and Akua’s eyes narrowed. The individuals moved with too much precision, too much tact, to be mindless horde beasts. They acted more similar to animal companions in their intelligence and strength. Yet that went against convention for Names like Thrallmaster or Prime, where they commanded many minions but each was of inconsequential intelligence and often unable to act independently for any serious amount of time. This woman wielded an army with power on par with that of an entire nation. Apprentice had done well in finding wherever it was he had pulled her from.  
  
Her disappearance for several months had been a mere curiosity before, but now it was becoming clear to Akua that it had been a ruse. For her to gather such a force must have taken time, no power of that scale was given without some cost. Perhaps the ritual she used to command the spiders took time to prepare, implying she was of a more sorcerous bent even if she did not outright practice direct sorcery. An alchemical solution similar to Still Water would fit the time frame and scale. Some trace of her workings could have been the original inspiration for Warlock when he devised the project.  
  
Many mysteries lay at her feet, each promising a nugget of greater and greater power if she could solve them. For that she needed the woman alive. For that, she needed something that would contain a Named of her strength. And for that, she had held back against the princes and exhausted her sorcery so that she could retain a single Aspect. Using it would’ve granted her victory against the nobles, but left her metaphorical quiver empty until the next dawn. She had a great many traps and spells still at the ready, but none that were calibrated for this manner of threat. The Fourfold Crossing was prepared with Catherine in mind and the wards below primed for the Carrion Lord. Waiting was an option, but the longer she took the less likely her success she estimated.  
  
She descended from the tower, passing through the numerous wards that covered each section of the keep’s interior. The halls of the keep were beautiful stone, mined from the quarries of Southern Callow centuries back. The wards that lay thick over the stone had been carved into place. Some with an elegance befitting her work, many with the haste and bare practicality that were necessary for her mages to have completed so many in time. Only she had the magical keys to traverse the entirety of the castle freely, though she’d be disappointed if Fasili and a few others hadn’t managed to get copies for themselves by now.  
  
Mages jogged through the hall as she entered the foyer. Many were taking a moment to rest, doubled over with their hands on their knees, breathing heavily. The last of her mage lines to return, the ones who had been closest to feeding the spiders. The soldiers had already gone to man the keep’s walls and towers, conventional weaponry was more effective against spiders than Fae and they knew it. One of the senior mages was working up an array for the entrance into the antechamber. It was a good working, by her eye, if a bit unseemly due to the haste. Designed specifically for insects, she noted. Most of the wards were flexible, as she had not known who would be first to test the city, but the more specific a working was the more power it could hold.  
  
She gestured to the mages that filled the foyer. “Create a scrying pool at the top of the central tower and locate the Named leading the horde.”  
  
They hastily saluted and gathered themselves. She would have about twenty minutes before they managed and sent a runner to her. That was half of her plan begun. Now she needed to initiate the other half.  
  
It was a shame, in a sense, that she had to do it now. It had been her hope to use it against Foundling, that it might sway her or break her. She didn’t expect that it would, but she had hope. The Squire had become so much more interesting now that she was out of her infancy. The brutality and hardness she had acquired did her much better credit than her earlier idealism. With just a bit more molding she would be make an excellent weapon for Akua, whether she joined willingly or not.  
  
That victory, as sweet as it would be, was overshadowed by the potential gains of today. She left the foyer, descending down into the belly of the keep. The wards here were some of the deadliest in Calernia, crafted specially for the Named who would someday come calling. Some of her finest work had gone into them, as they protected her finest work ever. Not the array that flew the city, nor Still Water as it was not truthfully hers, but the array she hid at the heart of it. A working so great that it had taken years to perfect. Every iota of her teachings, her accomplishments, and her Name had gone into crafting the perfectly balanced portions of the array.  
  
Nothing in Creation had ever been so perfect, so transcendent. Yet for all it’s perfections, it was not done. A few more weeks would see it finished, but those few weeks were absolutely crucial. The entire project rested on a razor’s edge of infinite thinness. The balance between power and usability on a working this large was so fine that even the slightest of miscalculations would send the entire thing into a chaotic chain of dominoing failures and side effects. The blastback from even a single error could destroy half the city. This was her magnum opus, the work that defined her and would cement her legacy as surpassing the Calamities. Only the likes of the Dead King and Triumphant had done works on such a scale.  
  
But that was not why she was here. The array was unfinished, though a lesser practitioner couldn’t even hope to see the fine tuning that remained nor how critical it was. She was here for Still Water. A brilliant work in and of itself, but it was not hers. It was a bit early to trigger it, she had planned to do so after a few days of flying had guaranteed the entirety of the city had been dosed. The concentration of reagents had proven trickier than she expected. Undoubtedly the ritual would not work perfectly, but if her play for control of the Named should fail she needed a counter-weight to the punching power of the arachnid army outside her doors.  
  
With just a trickle of sorcery, it was truly impressive how Warlock had managed to minimize the magical input necessary, she activated the array and began the ritual. The magic lanced outwards from the keep, spreading throughout the city and almost every living soul in Liesse collapsed. The woman outside wasn’t the only one with a massive army now.  
  
Nearly every soul of Liesse’s hundred thousand civilians rose, undead and under her command.  
  



	26. 3.2 - Catherine

### 3.2 - Catherine

  
  
“Any desirable leader should be sane of mind, this is a natural assumption. With the exception of a few notable figures, most leaders are simply tolerated or, more commonly, despised. Now I ask you this: what sane person would take on the weight of a crown with their reward being the scorn of its people?”  
\- Excerpt from the memoirs of Chancellor Sartorius the III  
  
  
Hakram was still smoldering from the blow and I could see Archer sweating buckets as she kept her blades moving despite the immense heat. I radiated cold, drawing on my title as Duchess to combat the heat released by Sulia’s attack. Sigils formed and popped as Masego fought to contain her. I was pretty sure my breastplate was melting yet again.  
  
“A little quicker if you please Zeze,” I grumbled, a spike of ice forming to deflect a blow intended for Archer.  
  
Masego formed another sigil, which popped just as quickly as the first. I ducked under Sulia’s blade, flicking my wrist so the dirk slid cleanly into my palm, jabbing it at the joint of her elbow. She straightened her arm out with a snap and the blade shattered as it caught between the pieces of armor. Damn, and that was my last one too.  
  
“Hmm? No, it won’t work like that. Oh, it’s so much more interesting than I had thought. I was wrong,” Masego muttered.  
  
Hakram shouldered into Sulia even as his skin was still smoldering from the last blow. Rampage was starting to ramp down, he wouldn’t be able to shrug off another blastback of fire in a minute. I was really going to regret mouthing off here if Masego couldn’t pull through. Another blast of fire had Hakram sprawled out on his back and my blade swung out, catching a downward swing meant for his chest.  
  
Among the roar of fire Masego laughed in revelation. Sigils waxed and waned around Sulia in rapid formation.  
  
“I see it now. It was there all along, a matter of perspective,” he said. “If you are a god, then show me a miracle.”  
  
And that was when Arcadia broke.  
  
  


\---

  
  
I looked over at Apprentice- no, it was Hierophant now. What was it he had said it meant? Dissector of miracles or something like that. It wasn’t a typical Name, I certainly hadn’t heard of it before.  
  
“So, how’re the eyes?” I asked. I rubbed at my ear, a sharp buzzing leftover presumably from Sulia punching me in it.  
  
Masego didn’t turn to look at me. His glasses had shattered when Sulia had nearly killed us, blinding him. Instead he now had two spheres that filled his eye sockets. He was surprisingly unimpaired for someone who had their eyes eviscerated just an hour ago.  
  
He waved a hand dismissively. “They function as needed.”  
  
Only Masego could be so impassive over nearly dying, going functionally blind, and transitioning to a new Name. Fortunately his transition had come with a side of better magical healing, since all of us had needed some after Sulia’s last trick. She had broken Arcadia, forming a domain of endless Summer much like what happened when I used Fall, but with Winter. Hers had been infinitely stronger, however, and nearly killed us before Thief had managed to steal the sun of Summer.  
  
“How long do we have?” I watched as the last of the Legions was marching through the gate.  
  
Masego paused before speaking. “Seven to eight bells. It is not trivial for the Queen of Summer to leave her seat of power.”  
  
That should be more than enough for the remaining forces we had in Arcadia to evacuate. Once we crossed into Creation we’d have longer before the Queen could come to us. The border separating the two was stronger for Fae than for mortals. She would come because we had kidnapped Sulia after beating her, and as the sole remaining Princess of Summer the Queen needed her.  
  
Our forces were battered, but overall not too badly off. I had expected worse, frankly. Diabolist must have bled the Fae badly before they had pulled back it seemed and it had saved us thousands of men. Now if only she could turn that talent for destruction towards something that wasn’t the rest of Praes. It would be too much to hope that she might actually do something useful a second time. If we were lucky Skitter would be arriving soon enough to Liesse to put down whatever was left of her garrison. At this point I was happy enough as long as someone killed her off.  
  
I watched as the rearguard steadily filed through the gates. Masego had formed a second one after recovering and it had greatly accelerated our timetable. They marched through the muddied and bloodied fields of golden grass that made up the heartland of Summer. The fields behind us were marred, their beauty scarred by craters from goblin munitions and rows of spike traps. Wisely the few hundred that were left avoided the circle of ash and cracked earth that encircled us. Summer’s fire had spared not even the turf of Summer itself, our battleground with Sulia was charred and broken.  
  
We were almost home free. We had traveled through Arcadia, reaching Dormer far faster than if we had marched through Callow. We had beaten Summer in their home turf, breaking their combined might. We had a Princess of Summer in chains, well magical bindings, and the sun in Thief’s bag. Sturdy bag, that.  
  
Today was looking like a win.  
  
Which is why I could feel the skin crawling on my back. Things never went this well. Ranger, bless her creepy heart, was still loitering in the distance. She hadn’t come for Sulia and we were almost gone. Maybe she wasn’t here for anything to do with us, or maybe she was waiting for something and had decided to watch our battle out of boredom. It seemed pretty unlikely, but like hell was I sending a messenger over to ask her. I didn’t dislike anyone in the Legions enough to consign them to that.  
  
Something about the light caught my eye and I paused. It was as if the shadows cast upon the ground were just slightly off. The buzzing in my ear got worse, turning to crackling.  
  
“Masego…” I started.  
  
Masego was stockstill, hesitating before he spoke, “I may have miscalculated.”  
  
Well that was unsettling to hear.  
  
All of Arcadia was halted. Dust hung in the air as stilled sunbeams illuminated it. The sounds of movement and life had disappeared, the crackling in my ears was the only noise left. I turned, looking at the last few hundred soldiers crossing the gates. They were frozen in time as well.  
  
Masego spoke aloud, “She wasn’t preparing to move, she was casting. But that fails to explain the noise. Two separate phenomena overlapping?”  
  
I turned to him, “Wait, you can hear that too?”  
  
His hands traced runes that hurt my head to look at. “Of course. It’s propagating from some sort of friction with the dimensional boundary of Arcadia. I had assumed it was related to the-”  
  
Masego stopped as a small, delicate cough was heard. We both looked up to see a young girl, plain of looks with large brown eyes and golden curls. Behind her the sky was alight as a sea of golden fire. She held her hand to her mouth. We had just been interrupted by the Queen of Summer and she had been polite about it too.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Fuck.” Masego agreed.  
  
Both of us were frozen still. I found I couldn’t even move my head now that I had looked at her.  
  
“Three of Summer’s best beaten in the span of a day. A cacophony at the edges of Summer. Truly, you five break the patterns around you.”  
  
Out of the very edge of my vision I saw movement. Masego’s hand had been frozen while behind his back and he was slowly tracing out a rune. I wanted to distract her, to buy him the time to work out a spell but I couldn’t speak, much less pose enough of a threat to keep her interested.  
  
She sighed heavily, looking on us sadly. “But it will not last. You have made us do what we have never done before, but that too can become part of the pattern. All rough edges fade with the passage of time.”  
  
This had to be why Ranger was here. Somehow she knew the Queen would appear here and now, instead of taking longer like we had thought. We just needed her to act before she killed us all. I was genuinely helpless for the first time in years. I could see Masego’s fingers twitch, the shape of his spell looked almost complete, judging from how it was giving me a headache to focus on. We just needed a few more seconds...  
  
“You are a woe to all of Creation-”  
  
A voice started to emerge from the crackling. “Zzzzt-dial the power-Zzzzzt-no, no it’s right th-Zzzt”  
  
The Queen furrowed her brow, looking around in confusion. She glanced back down at us, like a mother debating if her children needed scolding. Those large brown eyes carried a surprisingly deep well of emotion, considering most Fae seemed to have two emotions, which were murder and treachery.  
  
“Are you doing that?”  
  
I couldn’t shake my head to respond.  
  
“Zzzzt-wasn’t me-Zzzzt-signal is shifting, can’t get a good-Zzzzt-are you sure-”  
  
The Queen looked around, her expression soft and nonplussed. She raised a hand, poking at points in the sky experimentally. For a moment we had been forgotten as the strange sounds distracted her. A moment was all Masego needed.  
  
The crackling cacophony stopped as there was a sound like shattering glass that echoed and multiplied too many times. My head hurt from the way it reverberated throughout the air. Suddenly I found myself able to move. I could hear Masego shouting something triumphantly about the superiority of Trismegistian theorems over Arcadian workings and the sound of steel sliding free from a scabbard.  
  
The golden sea of flames that had filled the sky disappeared, fractal patterns warping around us as the rest of Arcadia suddenly stretched and seemed very far away. The only things I could coherently latch onto were Masego, looking gleeful, and the Queen, looking gently confused.  
  
Everything inverted violently and I blacked out.  
  
  


\---

  
  
Ranger pulled the sword from her scabbard, stepping in just in time to save the two fledgling Villains. Black had a soft spot for his apprentice and Wekesa would probably try to put some nasty curses on her if she left Masego die. Besides, Squire was shaping up to be a nice opponent in a few decades, if she lived that long. Hye didn’t peg it as particularly likely, given the girl’s way of pissing off everything she ran into, but she’d had the guts to bully an angel and she could appreciate that. Ranger arrived between them, ready to extend her protection over the two just long enough to let them survive.  
  
She declared, “I am the Ranger. I hunt those worth hunting. Rejoice, for you-”  
  
And stopped midway through her favorite line. The Queen of Summer was no longer in front of her. The kids weren’t behind her. In fact, none of them were anywhere. She could tell in a heartbeat whether her prey was near and suddenly it was so far away as to be almost absent.  
  
“What in the fuck?”  
  
The only thing left was a rapidly shrinking rainbow of jagged lines and darkness. Within a few seconds it shrunk entirely to a single point, popping out of existence. She had been given the run around again. She could feel her blood heating up at being tricked out of her hunt a second time, her fingers twitching over the hilt of her sword. The Queen had tricked her once and given her the run around. She would not be denied her hunt twice.  
  
She couldn’t sense where she had gone though and it was frustrating the hell out of her. The magical mess had left her nothing to work with, only giving her the idea that they were very, very far away. Ranger glowered at where the point had been, trying to will it back into existence. Around her she heard the cacophony of Arcadia resuming its motions, soldiers filing through the gates. Wisely they didn’t seem to be coming to bother her.  
  
Ranger stalked off from the hill. She hated asking for help with a hunt, but this had both gotten her interest and her ire. There was a reason she kept some of the old crew around.  
  
It was time to go grab the Warlock.  
  
  



	27. Chapter 27

### 3.3 - Taylor

  
  
“Interdimensional war is not just a likelihood, but a guarantee in the case of a stable or semi-stable interdimensional breach. Any inequity in power when combined with the finite resources of a given dimension will lead to eventual conflict. Any occurence of a breach to an inhabited Earth should be immediately contained as per containment zone procedures and the Chief Director notified. Information quarantine should be put into place and all staff on Master-Stranger protocols until otherwise ordered. First contact should be handled via WEDGDG.”  
  
\- Internal PRT memo for all Directors  
  
  
  
I offloaded my fury into my swarm as I tried to keep a collected face.  
  
In the span of moments they had killed the city.  
  
As far as I could tell, most of the civilians had been affected. The most common and simplest change was that many had become aggressive zombies, dying and snapping back to life in order to attack my swarm. I had checked hundreds of them by now and none of my swarm had found a flicker of life within the husks. The first dozen had been heart wrenching when I still had hope, the dozens after that had only served to stoke the quickly burning anger inside me. These weren’t my people, but they were still people.  
  
The second type had been more gruesome. Some who tried to reanimate but whatever spell was at work didn’t have enough juice to get it fully working. Sometimes they reanimated only to collapse a moment later, sometimes only a limb or their trunk would really get going. I mentally named them shamblers, as that’s what they reminded me of. Hardly dangerous to me or my swarm, but I had to protect the third group.  
  
The survivors. Some several thousand by my estimates. There had been more at the start, but many of the zombies had been next to survivors when the spell hit. I had restrained or disabled many of them beforehand and took down more after the change, but even so there had been losses. Too many. The father I had talked down before wasn’t breathing anymore. I clenched my teeth. There was no reason why losing him bothered me more than the others, but it still did.  
  
He had given me one valuable piece of information, which was that it truly was a zombie plague of sorts. Those who died rose again, adding to the count. Bites and scrapes alone weren’t enough, but the civilians I had failed to save had quickly joined the hordes. Spiders as it turned out, however, did not. _ At least not absolutely everything is going to shit._  
  
The city was filled with pockets of fighting. The zombies were intelligent like soldiers. They formed ranks, used weapons, and stayed in groups. I had the advantage of terrain. The zombies that arose in the parts of the city I had a foothold in were easily trapped and disabled by the myriad of webs and overwhelming forces. Small pockets held out or hid. Several houses full of survivors had been suddenly set ablaze.  
  
I was evacuating the survivors, pushing them out as quickly as I could without scaring them. My swarm voice wasn’t exactly soothing and giant spiders apparently were as unsettling here as they would be in Brockton Bay. Half a dozen different groups were guided away from the blazes. My smaller eyes caught sight of several groups of zombies using the opportunity to attack my forces, pinning them between the zombies and the survivors. Effective, had I been blind to their movements.  
  
I ordered my spiders to flank them before they had completed their own maneuver, taking them down with their superior mass. I was going to miss the hell out of these when I was back in Brockton Bay. Being able to command a spider to bodily tackle someone was too useful. The zombies fell before my forces, but I was running into a problem.  
  
Even though my range had extended, I had to keep my army near enough that I could control them. The side of the city I hadn’t secured was teeming with zombies and they were forming ranks in front of the castle, filing in to man the outer parapets. It seemed Diabolist didn’t want them too close as they didn’t go further inside, but it posed a serious problem for me. I needed my army closer to the castle to keep control. This also meant I needed to ferry the survivors closer to the castle as well if I was to keep them safe.  
  
Tactically, pushing my forces against a reinforced position while trying to protect civilians was about the stupidest thing I could do. It was only made stupider by the fact that the reason I needed to do this was because I was in the castle.  
  
I was looking off the highest tower at my own forces, in fact.  
  
The central tower gave a good view of the surrounding city. It was clearly built with such a purpose in mind, though parts of the city seemed to dip beyond it’s view. The tower was old, I was guessing, old enough that parts of the city had been built up around it, eventually blocking some of the view. Not that I needed it, nor did the mages I was protecting.  
  
They were creating a large pool that shimmered with silver in the middle of the tower. The guards had naturally been ordered to stand watch and hold the tower at all costs. What they hadn’t noticed was that one of the guards was me. Ambushing the fleeing groups had given me the opportunity to steal the armor of a woman with a similar build. She was more muscular, but I had filled the spare space with bugs and done my best to hide the looseness of the mail.  
  
With Diabolist’s initially scattered guard retreating slipping inside had been easy enough. There had been no time to question the last vestiges who had made it inside the keep and feigning the loss of my squad was easy enough. Without the chaos I doubted I could’ve pulled off such a ruse, but it had worked. And then Akua herself had walked into the room. She commanded the mages to set up a scrying pool for her. The mages had wanted guards. Volunteering had been effortless.  
  
And so I was here. Pretending to watch the battlements keenly as I directed my forces below. There were hundreds of mages setting up on the lower towers and walls, strange figures occasionally glittering from them. I was weak to magic, I knew this. It was why I had taken this gambit. A slugging match against a Tinker in their base was a bad idea because you never knew what tricks they could pull. The same principle applied here. Taking the Tinker, or mage in this case, out before they pulled the trap? That was the smart move.  
  
I used my view of the mages to position my forces better, moving away from sightlines. The zombies in front of the keep didn’t push my position despite how close my forces were. Many were armed with improvised weapons, some with real ones, and a few even with armor. It was clear that given time Diabolist could’ve had a formidable army, arming each and every one of her loyal undead. She was probably quite happy to let me take my time. Frankly, time was on her side. I couldn’t replenish my forces up here and she was a mage in her prepared territory. I had already seen her pull one major trick with the zombies. Blitzing her down was the best option.  
  
“The sympathetic link is complete,” one of the mages said behind me.  
  
“Boundary conditions stabilized. The pool is ready,” another said.  
  
“Then we only await our lady. Erect additional wards in the meantime. I want insect and force repelling wards on every angle of approach. Traps at your discretion. Make sure the illusory veil over the tower isn’t disrupted by the working,” ordered what sounded like the haughtiest, and therefore most senior, mage.  
  
An illusory veil, huh? I hadn’t noticed it, but the eyesight on my swarm wasn’t great and I had no reason to look at my own position much. I redirected some of my smaller flying bugs to take a look, but the magical wards put up at the base of the keep were frying them as they approached. A nuisance, but I had brought a decent swarm with me and I was far from unarmed. Still, those insect wards meant I'd have to be careful with what I had brought in.  
  
I didn’t know quite how stories worked in this world, but I figured a hero hiding themselves amongst the guard so they could defeat the villain at the critical moment had to be a good one. There was a chance that the rules of this world wouldn’t recognize my attempt. Perhaps I picked a story without the right strength or was unaware of certain conditions that were needed. It didn’t matter, because I planned to make it work on a practical level as well. If the world here decided to help me along, I’d take it, but either way Diabolist was going to pay for what she did.  
  
She was a monster worse than Lung or Kaiser had been. Maybe even worse than the Slaughterhouse Nine. She had casually tried to wipe out an entire city just to deal with me. The Nine had a high body count but I doubted they matched hers at the moment. The casual, callous disregard for human life and willingness to take it was matched by no one I had ever met. Maybe some of those African warlords or the Yangban, but I knew little enough of them to be certain of that.  
  
The mages worked behind me, moving along the borders of the tower. One gave me a glare as she traced runes slowly along the lip of the wall. Clearly she expected me to move without her needing to communicate. I stepped back, letting her by as she worked and earned only another tired glare for it. Too slow, I guess. It was amazing that any group of people could be as stuck up as the Praesi and manage to survive. I seriously wondered how they hadn’t all been offed yet when they seemed so happy to be raging assholes to everyone.  
  
Still, it worked for me right now. They were so full of themselves that they never thought to even talk to a lowly soldier. Good news, since I had little idea what to say if I was asked anything. Sure I knew some terms and had a general understanding from spying on them, but I worried about actually trying to fake it. It reminded me of many of the immigrants who lived in Brockton Bay. Even those who were born in the States elsewhere had slightly different accents. It was difficult to assimilate so fully that a native couldn’t pick you out in a few minutes of conversation. The same would likely apply here and assuming anything less was reckless.  
  
I waited as the mages continued to work and my swarm skirmished with the zombies below. Establishing a foothold closer to the keep had been a bit bloody, but it had worked. One hundred and five thousand spiders plus my smaller swarms remained. I still had force parity, most likely superiority, and a reasonably secure footing. The survivors were kept in multiple groups, interspersed randomly around my army. I had already noticed one group of zombies attempting to circle behind. Keeping all the survivors to the back would be an amateur mistake, leaving them open to a surprise attack.  
  
Spellwork lit up the walls but so far little was targeted at my swarm. The mages seemed to be conserving their strength from both my tactical and literal observations. There was no way around it, magic here took work and these mages had battled both Fae and then a spider army in short order. Most of them were exhausted. Even the ones on the tower with me seemed to be running on fumes. They were working themselves to the bone. It would’ve been admirable had they not been a bunch of murderers and pricks.  
  
Letting them recharge and set traps wasn’t to my advantage so I had my swarm press the attack. I had to keep up appearances so they didn’t suspect a trap and the mages below would need to be dealt with eventually anyway. The zombie army was mostly outside the keep, only a thousand or so had been fit inside and the other tens of thousands were in rank outside. They couldn’t fit in the keep and the city was my deathtrap, so they waited. If I had had archers it would’ve been a killing field, but I didn’t and they knew that.  
  
Instead of engaging directly I kept to my usual tactics. My spiders flanked where they could, leaping for the walls behind the zombies and trying to bridge over the streets with webbing. The first few to hit the walls caught fire, the mages above peppering them with spells. Fireballs shot out, trying to burn the web bridges that were being built. I sent smaller swarms to harass the mages, many dying to local wards set up to prevent that. Enough were getting through to distract some of them though, and those I managed to get enough bugs on collapsed to the ground as I filled their ears and noses with whatever was at hand.  
  
The zombies advanced forward, hitting the edge of the city where I engaged them. I kept the swarm from pushing too hard. Out in the streets my spiders were fair game for the mages, taking too much ground there was bloody and impractical work. The zombies weren’t pushing too deep into the city either, resulting in a quasi-stalemate on the border between the plaza surrounding the keep and the city itself. I had some of my spiders working on a tunnel, but frankly they weren’t the burrowing kind. They were able to do it, with effort, but it was clear that it’d take longer than was practical. A back-up plan in case things became protracted.  
  
One of the mage bastions exploded suddenly, bodies flying off the walls in a burst of color. Guards rushed to retake the tower but I already had spiders pushing across, using my smaller insects to overwhelm those who hadn’t fallen to the explosion. God bless Robber and his murderous little heart. In fact, if I was reading his intentions correctly…  
  
I massed my forces for a push on the opposite side of the keep, building a web bridge and pushing into the zombie horde on the ground. Moments later a second explosion rang out and a low tower on that side was filled with smoke and fire. Perfect. The first one had drawn some of the reserves to the opposite side. Others were rushing to the new explosion, but I had two fronts to hit them on. A ward was being erected on the south side, where the first explosion had been, and I found it difficult to get my spiders past. The ward felt breakable to the faint magic sense my spiders had, however. A stopgap then.  
  
The northside was bitter fighting, mages were easy takedowns in close quarters but any further and they were easily able to take out dozens of spiders before I could wear them down. It was patently unfair how versatile magic was. It was like every mage was a low level Myrddin. Akua and her senior mages were probably comparable.  
  
Fucking mages.  
  
I was pulled out of my focus when I heard the scattered honorifics behind me. I didn’t dare turn around and risk revealing myself, but the bugs peering out from the joints of my leather and mail gave me a spotty sort of vision. The Diabolist had just arrived.  
  
She was tall and elegant, everything about her radiated refinement and poise. She had the gall to be wearing a splendid red dress in the middle of a battle. I hated her instantly based on appearance alone, adding to my fury from before. She had an almost supernatural beauty and I had my suspicions over whether it was magically induced. An elderly man followed behind her, dressed rather casually all things considered, his grey beard giving him a look that reminded me of Renaissance era philosophers.  
  
The mages around the tower quickly took positions around the pool. Some of the younger ones standing off to the side. The pool shimmered as she stepped to the foot of it.  
  
She spoke and her voice was smug and silky. Oh, I was definitely taking her down.  
  
“Let us see...How interesting, her mind is dispersed among her swarm, allowing her individual control. How does she handle that much feedback? I can sense no Aspect for it,” She murmured to herself as the pool shone bright.  
  
I waited, controlling my breathing. I needed to wait until she was as distracted as possible.  
  
“Ah, an emotion. Indiginance and...wrath, yes. More hot-headed than she seems. A trail, to find her by.”  
  
Her voice rose, “Masterless power, unbound and broken. Two lights passing in the dark void. I connect the unseen road: _bridge_."  
  
The pool flashed brightly with magic, blinding everyone in the tower momentarily. My swarm outside didn’t see any glow from the tower, however. That was the purpose behind the illusion then, so I wouldn’t see her ritual and intervene. I turned slightly, looking out of the corner of the helmet. The pool settled after a second and showed a picture of the very same tower as where we stood.  
  
One of the older mages, confused, spoke, “Here? That can’t be right.”  
  
Diabolist whipped her head up around immediately, scanning the crowd. My hand dipped behind my back, reaching inside the pouch on my too loose belt. Her eyes almost passed over me, flicking back and locking onto me with a moment of furious recognition.  
  
I whipped out the pistol and fired twice.  
  
The first shot took her in the chest, sending her spinning to the ground. The second taking down the elderly mage behind her. I had my bugs stream out of my armor, the nearest three mages and guards going down as they choked on the cascade of bugs. My swarm wasn’t too big, the wards had limited what I could bring in, but it was enough to start obscuring the edges of my body.  
  
Two of the guards started to approach, the mages backpedaling after seeing their leader drop. They were casting defenses, but I doubted any of them had Protego Bullet. The closest guard hesitated as my swarm closed around him, covering his mouth. My swarm moved around it, sliding into his nose and eyes before he could try to screw them shut. He immediately fell back, landing on his ass.  
  
Diabolist gripped her chest as blood leaked out around her hand. I raised the pistol, quickly lining up a mosquito with her head for aim. _Don’t give her a chance to cast._  
  
Suddenly I was yanked backwards, something grasped onto the backside of the mail I wore. I staggered against the tower wall, my swarm whirling down on the assailant.  
  
Diabolist rasped angrily, “Papa-”  
  
The hand yanked me over the edge right as Diabolist started to shout.  
  
“**Bind**,” Diabolist projected, voice strained.  
  
I looked up as I fell, seeing only a woman hanging from beneath the tower’s edge by a single hand.  
  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

### 3.3a - The Wandering Bard

  
“The winner is the one who makes the second to last mistake.”  
\- A Proverb about shatranj  
  
  
Aoede swatted the bugs away from her face even as they swarmed over her. A few seconds of ineffective flailing and she existed instead at the bottom of the tower. That was a nuisance. Go save a young girl and get swarmed. Well, it’s not like she wasn’t used to thankless jobs. That was pretty much the definition of her life.  
  
Skitter was falling towards a few decorative hedges which she figured should be sufficient for her to survive. Normally she wouldn’t have issues with guaranteeing a young heroine falling from an encounter with a villain survived, but there was the rub. Skitter just didn’t generate narrative weight. It wasn’t that she was completely immune from it, but she was like oil in a world of water. It didn’t want to stick to her unless you forced it. The Bard had tried.  
  
Useful in that she couldn’t easily be bound by stories. Dangerous in that she couldn’t rely on the truest and most tried laws in Creation. Stories were the oldest laws, in a sense, and much more important than such trifling things like density or flow. That was how Skitter had caught her eye again after that first night…  
  
  


\---

  
  
She left the room that the newcomer inhabited, disappearing into the night. There were about to be quite a few Fae mucking about in the city and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. Useless, the lot of them, except occasionally as a tool to bludgeon Creation with. She was expecting to feel the shape of Skitter’s story start to form, but curiously enough it wasn’t there.  
  
She wiggled her fingers, finding that the shape of Skitter in her mind slipped and slid out of her attempts to grasp it. Now that was very curious indeed. Suddenly the Bard was considering turning around and having another word with her. If only she could. Unfortunately she had already said her piece, going back now was all but impossible.  
  
Some were bound more strongly than others. Her cage was second only to that of the Fae, of demons, and all of Creation’s unwanted older siblings. It had been made by her own two hands, before she had known what she was doing. A foolish girl eons ago had made a choice and she would continue to pay the price for eternity.  
  
Unless one of her irons worked out.  
  
It was a fragile thing, that balancing act. Too much weight on one side and the entire thing would come crashing down.  
  
Skitter, however. Skitter was like a feather on the scale. So light and ephemeral. She could be moved back and forth and even the most money-grubbing merchant wouldn’t notice the distance by which she shifted the scale. The gods were tight fisted bastards and anything that didn’t play with them was unceremoniously removed from the board. They couldn’t remove that which they didn’t notice, however.  
  
It wouldn’t do to confuse a bit of curiosity for hope. There had been enough curiosities, enough children born under special stars, enough once in an eon lineages that she knew better. More likely than not Skitter would end up being entirely inconsequential. It was a good story. A stranger stranded on a backwater in Creation breaking the machine against all odds. It was a shame that stories were the problem.  
  
She whistled a tune to herself as she fished a flask out of her pouch. She had grabbed the carafe of wine left in the girl’s room as she left. After all, her bag only had that disgusting Ashuran distillate and aragh in it. How Calernia managed to have such a density of awful tasting drinks was a mystery even to her.  
  
Sure she understood the individual events. The Baalites had brought it over across the Tyrian Sea and figs just didn’t grow with quite the same taste here. Orcs had a depressing lack of culinary culture that didn’t involve a stewpot and no surprise that brewing alcohol on the war ravaged fields of the Steppes wasn’t exactly prone to making good drink. Callowan beer was a sort of tepid pisswater that might easily be mistaken for taking a swill from a pond. Even the Golden Bloom was inferior compared to its forebearers, the fruity wines and meads they boasted were decent enough as things went but the forest remembered and the harvest was never truly theirs.  
  
But why they all had to end up here with their crappy distilleries was a mystery. Or less a mystery since she knew exactly what the powers that be thought of her. She sighed to herself, feeling the pull of her next stop.  
  
She still had the Black Knight to deal with down the road and through him, the Squire. Another iron, another fire. The Free City situation was evolving in an interesting direction, something she’d have to keep an eye out for. She wasn’t young enough to have hope after finding Skitter, but she’d make use of her.  
  
And maybe, if Skitter was as unattached as she suspected, she might be able to do a touch more.  
  
  


\---

  
  
The figure landed in perfect silence on the balcony. He was short, even for a gnome, standing barely two feet high. The jetpack controls wrapped around under his arms, the back strapped to the metal and leather harness. Gnomish Special Forces didn’t wear anything to identify rank, but from the fact that he came alone this one was probably as high as they got. One of the few trusted to produce and verify results singlehandedly.  
  
The gnome pulled a small metal cylinder from his bandolier, setting it on the ground. With a click it pulsed a soft blue and he stepped inside. Immediately he froze, his goggles would’ve outlined her in bright red the moment she was in his field of view. After a second to verify her identity, the color would switch to orange. Probable threat, but not actively hostile.  
  
“Overseer,” he greeted stiffly, the mechanical voice speaking in Proper Gnomish.  
  
She replied in a much more casual dialect, “The Committee must really have been worried to send one of you in person.”  
  
He twitched slightly at the informal tone, but maintained the formality that counted as politeness in Gnomish. “The subject carries enough forbidden technology on her person alone to consign half the continent to erasure should it be obtained.”  
  
She rolled her head around, stretching her neck out. “You’ve had no qualms wiping out cities before. What’s a few now?”  
  
“Her situation necessitates discretion as the most efficient course,” the gnome replied.  
  
“They told her about you, you know. Floating cities that rain death on those who dare progress science. All the grand myths and legends and facts mixed together.” She glanced sideways at him as she lounged out on the love seat. He’d tolerate her digression because he’d have been briefed to.  
  
“Now she won’t even let the goblins look at her gear. She’s cautious. Methodical. You lot would actually like her quite a bit I think. Similar mindsets, very practical.”  
  
The gnome wasn’t so undisciplined as to fidget, even though he was clearly uncomfortable. “If that is the case, we have an auxiliary plan to send her back. She need not die as long as she is gone.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “You think I came over here just to prevent you from disappearing another scientist or inventor or some crap?”  
  
The gnome grimaced, shooting her a glare. “We thought-”  
  
The Bard’s voice went cold, “You thought? You think a lot of things, up there in your skyships. But you know what you don’t think?”  
  
She took a deep swig of her flask, the mead leaving a pleasant aftertaste. The gnome looked at her warily, peering from behind the goggles that covered half his face. He was paying attention now.  
  
“You don’t think about how deep in shit you are. How for all that technological marvel, you still quarrel like the races you look down on so much. You like to think yourselves so elevated and civilized, but the only thing keeping you-”  
  
She swayed drunkenly, splashing the gnome with a few drops from the flask.  
  
“-from squabbling in the mud down here with the rest of them, is that you’re useful up there. But don’t get things mixed up. This isn’t your world to curate. And this isn’t your story to fuck with.” She didn’t even spare the small raygun he lofted at her a glance.  
  
She could see his mouth twitching with indignation under the eccentrically styled grey beard. She leaned forward, taking a moment to stare him down at his own eye level. The crystal clear goggles and an inch of space all that separated them for that instant.  
  
“You’re janitors, not kings. You don’t play this game and you don’t touch the board. Don’t make me say it again,” she warned.  
  
She fell back, lounging onto the seat languidly. The member of the Gnomish Special Forces took a step back, out onto the balcony. With a muffled and almost silent launch he ascended into the sky on his jetpack, quickly disappearing into the cover of a clouded sky at night. Even down here, centuries behind them were they ever so careful about being detected while using anything they deemed proprietary technology.  
  
This was the third intervention she’d had to make so far.  
  
  


\---

  
  
“Go home,” she said. “Murder your little friend in the Tower and reign until someone puts a knife in your back. You’re not as good at this game as you thought you were.”  
  
“But you won’t, will you?” the Named sighed. “You don’t negotiate.”  
  
She rose back to her feet, brushing away walnut shards from her clothes.  
  
“This one feels like a sin, doesn’t it?” she mused. “Remember that, when the gears start turning.”1  
  
The Black Knight glared at her, eyes running with blood and body broken. He would survive. Even the backhand of a Seraphim wasn’t quite enough to put down the monster made of cogs and gears. He truly was the scariest thing Praes had put out in a century. But it would leave a mark on him. He had been hurt, badly. A long time friend killed, a victory snatched from him, and then on top of it all a belittling defeat. He’d remember for a long time.  
  
The Bard began her retreat. The Story here was finished. Kairos had run off with her White Knight and the whole mess he’d caused was going to give her headaches for months to come. It had been awhile since someone had pulled one over on her, even if it was a small one.  
  
It was true what she’d said to the Black Knight. Even the Tyrant, decades his younger, had done more to outmaneuver her. He wasn’t as good at this game as he thought. Simple words, aimed at the most sensitive part of his ego and he’d dance like a marionette for her. Oh, she didn’t expect him to go home and give up. The Black Knight had spent his entire life trying to spit in the eye of the Heavens. For the Heavens to tell him to give up after his worst defeat in decades?  
  
Why it was enough to light a fire in a man.  
  
A fire that would burn bright, but not bright enough to scorch the Heavens.  
  
A fire that would be passed down to a successor.  
  
A successor who would end up working with an outsider.  
  
A duo that had carried a very specific grudge.  
  
A grudge that would lead them to the realization.  
  
And then, things would get interesting.  
  
  


\---

  
  
She felt hollow, the sensation seeping into her bones. Even a small touch like that on someone like Skitter was pushing things. She’d have to be careful for awhile.  
  
A pair of goblins jumped out of the shrubbery, quickly grabbing the girl and pulling her beneath the hedges. Perfect, she thought to herself. Diabolist could be counted on to act appropriately, especially with the death of her dear father. The fallout of the extended fight would get Skitter where she needed to be. Now she simply had to make sure that the Tyrant got what was coming to him and-  
  
Her inner monologue was interrupted by the swarm descending on her again. She grimaced as the bugs that had accosted her on the tower had evidently found her again and remembered her face. This was just ridiculous, Skitter was vindictive even when unconscious. She could feel the swarm around her growing.  
  
Cursing up a storm, she went for a Wander.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No, we haven't seen gnomes in canon, I took some creative liberties since re-treading only known ground is boring. I also made some assumptions about the Bard's ultimate goals. Hopefully EE doesn't publish a chapter next week making me look silly.  
This chapter was really quite difficult because the Bard is hellish to write with how much she ties into half-hinted parts of aPGtE worldbuilding. I'm not entirely happy with it, but it had to get written somehow.  
  
1: The 4 lines from "Go home" to "...gears start turning" are sourced from Villainous-interlude-calamity-iii of aPGtE with very slight minor changes. There wasn't much of a point in rewriting them and they were added for context for those who haven't read aPGtE.


	29. 3.4 - Catherine

### 3.4 - Catherine

  
“There’s always a bigger, scarier monster somewhere on the continent. If you think that might be you, we have new and exciting opportunities for you in Ater, apply today!”  


  * Fliers distributed during the reign of Dread Emperor Irritant

  
  
The first thought that came to my head was how I never seemed to land on anything soft. The dull thud as Masego and I hit the ground failed to convey how little the ground gave compared to my bones. We had landed on some sort of stone flooring that stretched out around us, the landscape hemmed in with foreign buildings. The moon hung high in the sky above us and I felt the sudden urge to punch it. A swirl of black and purple dissipated behind, withering away into nothing.  
  
I pulled myself to my feet, my melted armor cracking as bits of slagged steel broke off. The metal chips hit the floor loudly as I looked up to see where in the Hells we had landed. There was some sort of low desk or divider, on the other side of which stood several people. The first thing I noticed was how strangely they were dressed. One was wearing a rather scandalous outfit that hugged her body in a way I had never seen material do and was a rich purple to boot. Another had their features enclosed completely in a helm, black smoke leaking from their figure. The third was dressed stranger still, with bits of metal wrapped around them.  
  
I grabbed Masego by the collar, hauling him to his feet quickly. Wherever his little trick had landed us, it looked like we had either mage or Named company. It was hard to tell without knowing what species we were even dealing with. The one with metal looked human enough, bearing some resemblance to Ashurans and the woman was at least similar in shape, but the mask obscured enough to make me hesitant.  
  
Wait a second.  
  
They were wearing masks.  
  
I held up a hand in what I was really hoping was the universal sign for peace.  
  
“Before this all turns into some convoluted misunderstanding, is this Brockton Bay?”  
  
The strangers glanced at each other, the one shrugging at us and the woman replying in something unintelligible.  
  
Right, well that wasn't Chantant or Lower Miezan, that was for sure. I gave Masego a quick nudge with my shoulder and he sighed, touching his chest where a rune lit up and then touching mine. The rune glowed for a second. I was about to ask how he had the spell so readily available, but first thing first.  
  
"Alright, let's try that again. Is this Brockton Bay?"  
  
The strangers seemed surprised, a few quick glances exchanged between them before the one in purple field my question.  
  
“Yeah, it is. So who are you three?”  
  
“Three?” I asked, half turning to look behind me.  
  
The Queen of Summer floated, her face just a hand from my own. Her normal look of calm serenity replaced by irateness. Her youthful doe-eyed face curled downwards in a sour expression.  
  
“Do tell how you know this realm with which even I feel misplaced in,” she said flatly.  
  
I shamelessly acted on my first instinct, grabbing Masego and bolting perpendicularly to both parties. A few seconds of peace hadn’t been nearly enough to lessen the memory of being completely at her mercy. I threw up walls of ice behind us to block her line of sight and dashed down the street as fast as my legs could take me. Being well seated in my Name made that pretty fast, though I had no misconceptions over how many Named or otherwise powered residents of Creation could catch me.  
  
Masego bounced on my shoulder as I carried him. After this was over I’d have to remind him to watch his weight a bit. I had no idea how he managed to put back on some of the weight he had lost while being on military rations, but I suspected either Hakram or Ratface had a hand in it.  
  
“Masego, can she catch us here?” I asked loudly, making sure he could hear me while I ran.  
  
“I do not know. This world is very disconnected from ours. The effects on magic in general, magical beings like the Fae nonwithstanding-”  
  
“Yes or no Zeze, I need to know if she’s going to pull that time trick again,” I interrupted.  
  
He smothered down his irritation at being cut off and sighed. “I do not know, Catherine. If I had to guess, I would say no. This is far from her seat of power.”  
  
Finally some good news. Hopefully that meant the strangers we had left her with could handle her, or survive at least. I felt some vague guilt about leaving them so suddenly, but it was far too much of a risk to be near the Summer Queen. If she had locked us down a second time I doubted we would’ve been so fortunate as to escape. There were a lot of sayings that revolved around picking your battles and for good reason.  
  
I made another sharp turn, ducking down yet another overly wide street in this city. The one piece of information we had was actually quite useful. We were in Brockton Bay, Skitter’s home. The masks had clued me in. Practically no Named wore them unless it fit with a theme. Someone with a Name like Thief or Brigand might choose to, for example, but otherwise there was no point. Many Heroes even capitalized on their strikingly good looks, using them to complement their charisma. Thanks Evil for leaving me short and with just a bounty of charisma.  
  
Brockton Bay was bad. We had very little information beyond that people with powers, like Skitter, existed. The three who had been at our arrival were probably some. Possibly they even knew Skitter. The portal we had fallen through had closed behind us, which meant no immediate way home. I reached for Winter and found it greatly reduced, a trickle of power. Certainly not enough to open a gate. I could form ice with some effort, but my well of power felt like it was being pulled through the eye of a needle.  
  
I rounded another corner when I had to suddenly skid to a halt. A young man dressed in gold and white had stepped out in front of me at the last second. Much like the woman he was in the same tight fitting material, just white, though he at least had gold shoulder pads and a decorative helm. It didn’t make much sense as costumes went, given that I was pretty sure even my slagged armor was more protective, but then the thought of say, Vivienne, wearing something made of that…  
  
“Woah there, slow down. I’m Triumph, part of the local Protectorate. And you?” He asked with a smile.  
  
His name was close enough that I nearly double checked to see if anyone around me was going to do the knuckle to forehead gesture. Somehow from the youthful energy and very Heroic costume I doubted he shared much in common, however.  
  
“Ca-” I stopped myself, remembering a few months back to the very brief time I’d had with Skitter. “Squire. And this here is Hierophant.”  
  
I gave Masego a firm pat on the back and he let out a small wheeze. I lowered him from my shoulder and got a glare in return as he started smoothing his singed robes out.  
  
Triumph took a second to look at both of us, as if searching for something. “New to town? I’m afraid the names don’t ring a bell. You two look a bit roughed up, everything okay?”  
  
I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder in the rough direction we had come from. “Just got in a bit of a spat with the Queen of Summer. You might want to get some guys on that. She looked pissed.”  
  
The man in red furrowed his brow, “Queen of Summer?”  
  
Right, these people didn’t really have Fae. I didn’t really want to stick around to explain much either. At least not until Masego and I had a chance to form a game plan. Hopefully by then the locals would be able to drive the Queen of Aine off as well. I was really betting on her power being strangled similarly to mine, otherwise the city might be a write off entirely. And wouldn’t Skitter be pissed about that? We found your home, but we accidentally dumped a Fae Queen on it and got it annexed by Summer. Whoops.  
  
I spoke with my hands fumbling a bit. “Yeah, she’s, uhm, how to put this...a magical faerie queen? Lots of different powers, rules over the Summer Court…”  
  
I saw Masego visibly recoil in horror at my butchered explanation. _Look Zeze, you try to explain Fae to people from a different reality in a rush._  
  
Fortunately Triumph seemed to get the gist of it from the look near panic beneath his mask.  
  
“The Faerie Queen is here?”  
  
I nodded, relieved that he seemed to at least get the general idea. “Yes.” I pointed behind us, “That way a bit. Hard to miss her probably.”  
  
The man fretted for a second, before rolling his shoulder in the direction to our right.  
  
“Look, we definitely have some questions for you about all this, but if what you say is true then I need to check this out. The PRT Headquarters is about twelve blocks that way and two blocks south. We’d really appreciate it if you could head there while we get a handle on this,” he said quickly.  
  
I nodded, not particularly wanting to spend more time in the open street than necessary. Masego and I would consider the merits of cooperation en route.  
  
Triumph gave a quick wave and started to run down the street in the direction we had come, a hand going to his ear as he did.  
  
“If you are done mangling your explanations of the Fae?” Masego asked, not even bothering to face me.  
  
“Yes. I promise you can go give them a correct explanation once we’ve figured out a plan.”  
  
Masego seemed to settle down at the idea. Even if we didn’t end up going through with it, he was mollified that the correction could be made at least. He was adorably straight forward like that. Then again, my crew didn’t really tend to attract people who weren’t blunt. Vivienne was probably the least direct and she was also the least attached to us, except besides Archer who was really only on loan to us from Ranger.  
  
We covered a few streets in the direction Triumph had intended, moving off the main thoroughfare and to the side after an incident with a large metal wagon and some ice that had absolutely nothing to do with us. It was fortunate that we had appeared at night, as there didn’t seem to be people outside for us to deal with. What few we spotted were quick enough to avoid us as well.  
  
We ducked under a covered alleyway about halfway to the place Triumph had mentioned. Masego started the basic working for an illusion to mask us, frowning a little and muttering to himself in High Arcana before getting it to work. Was magic also different here? I opened my mouth to ask and then thought better about losing half an hour to hearing the answer.  
  
I hopped up on a metal box to sit before quickly realizing that it smelled awful. I opted instead to just lean on the brick wall, which was familiar enough in construction and not quite as foul smelling. I was pretty sure Skitter had never mentioned how bad her city smelled.  
  
“Alright, so tell me exactly what you did to get us here,” I said to Masego.  
  
Masego nodded in the entirely wrong direction. “I detected a friction at the dimensional boundary of Arcadia. I originally had thought it was a working from our side of Creation but instead appeared to originate from the infinite plane beyond, rather than a known plane. The friction was increasing with time quickly enough that I calculated a small nudge would be sufficient to increase it to a magnitude necessary to wear a hole through Arcadia. From there it was a simple matter of aligning our spot in Arcadia with our egress.”  
  
I paused, letting it sink in. “So you’re telling me...you noticed a hole from infinity and thought it’d be a good idea to open it beneath us?”  
  
He bobbed his head to the side back and forth a bit. “In layman’s terms, that’s a reasonable enough approximation.”  
  
“So you had no idea where the hole would go?”  
  
He nodded again. “I deduced that it would most likely be better than where we were.”  
  
Well shit, he hadn’t been wrong about that.  
  
“Can you do it in reverse? Take us back?” I asked.  
  
Masego frowned. “Not immediately. I took advantage of a temporary set of conditions that favored the working. Doing it entirely by my own power would be a substantially more difficult task.”  
  
“But it’s possible?” I asked, a bit more pushy.  
  
“Having seen it, I think I can replicate it with some effort. However…” he trailed off. It was rare to see him hesitate.  
  
I worried. If getting us back was difficult enough to make even Masego second guess himself then it was no small task.  
  
He rallied himself, “Should we though? Go back immediately, I mean. Just from our brief exposure here I’ve seen enough to give me work for years. Surely a bit of investigation would be an effective use of our time. There are likely a number of discoveries here that could help in containing Akua or other foes in the future. You have no shortage of those.”  
  
And there it was. I don’t know why I had even thought he’d doubt himself. Trying to bribe me with ways to kill the person I hated most even? He was getting better at this. A few more years and I might trust him to haggle in the market for bread or some fruit. Longer before he was ready to take on any fishmongers though. Even Ratface had respect for them.  
  
I could tell today was far from being over.  
  



	30. Omake - Christmas

### Omake - Christmas

  
  
“I’m not sure I get the point. Isn’t this just Winter Solstice, but with more steps?” Catherine said, lounging on her throne.  
  
I sighed.  
  
“It’s an excuse to do nice things for people. It makes everything just a little bit better. And it’s not even on the solstice,” I argued back.  
  
Catherine folded her hands together, frowning as she rested her chin on them.  
  
“Run through it one more time for me.”  
  
I looked around the table. The rest of her murderous crew of Villains seemed equally as confused, except perhaps for Archer, who just looked oddly eager. Something about the predatory look in her eyes worried me.  
  
“Alright. It’s a holiday focused around giving gifts to friends and loved ones. You have a big dinner with your family, spend the day opening presents and just hanging out. There’s a bunch of little traditions and myths around it. Like Santa Claus. He’s this fat guy who delivers presents to good boys and girls on Christmas Eve by riding through the sky on a sleigh,” I explained slowly.  
  
Masego spoke irritably, “That’s ridiculous. Even if one were to enchant a sleigh to fly, the maximum number of homes one could cover in a single night is far below even the population of Praes, let alone Calernia.”  
  
I rolled my eyes, “He’s magic.”  
  
“Magic? That is a charlatan’s tall tale, a spectacle of the fundamental misunderstandings of the workings of magic by uneducated-”  
  
Archer pulled him back, partly smothering him in her arms, muffling his angry torrent of words. She patted him on the head slowly, working back down from his frenzy. Maybe Christmas just wasn’t for these guys.  
  
Catherine chuckled lightly, “I don’t think we have to worry about this Santa Claus anyway. It’s not as if any of us are in the Heaven’s good books.”  
  
Hakram gave her a look of mock offense, “I think I’ve been the very model of an orc this year.”  
  
“You eat people's eyes Hakram.”  
  
“As any good orc should. Or is this Santa Claus only fond of good Callowan children?” He asked, turning towards me.  
  
I scrambled for an answer. “Uh, no, he gives gifts to all children. It doesn’t matter where they’re from.”  
  
Hakram nodded, appeased. “Naturally he wouldn’t judge Orcs or Goblins by the same standards as Humans.”  
  
Robber gave a sadistic grin, “Yeah, that makes us two safe! We’ve been very good. Nearly perfect, even. Couldn’t ask for better.”  
  
Catherine nestled her face between her hands. “Alright, except you forget that he lives in Skitter’s world. Also that he isn’t even real.”  
  
Archer piped up, “You’re basically Queen Bitch of Winter. Aren’t you magically obliged to enforce this Christmas thing?”  
  
Catherine shot a look at Archer, “And do what, send the Wild Hunt out to give gifts to children? That’ll go real well.”  
  
“Aw, come on. It’ll be great! Can you imagine Larat handing out gifts? A big bag behind him on his saddle. The Hunt dressed up as...hey Skitter, what do Santas dress like?”  
  
I scratched the back of my head. Now that I was explaining Christmas to people who were basically aliens in how little culture they shared with my world I was realizing how weird Christmas sounded.  
  
“They dress in red and white with floppy hats and big white beards? But there’s only one Santa. He has helpers though! They’re elves. They’re about yeigh high-” I put a hand at about my midsection “-really jolly, usually dress in green and red, kind of like Santa, and help by making gifts. They have pointy ears and kind of look a bit silly.”  
  
My explanation was met by a shared look of horror by the entire crew in front of me.  
  
“What? What did I say?”  
  
  


\---

  
  
“That’s cheating!”  
  
“The mistletoe isn’t over me Indrani, now get off my lap.”  
  
Archer huffed, folding her arms as she pouted in Catherine’s lap. Catherine, for her part, just rolled her eyes. A portal hung in the air above them, between Catherine’s head and a stealthily hung piece of mistletoe. Catherine heaved, shoving Archer unceremoniously off her lap. Archer dramatically rolled across the floor, laying sprawled across the cold stone in feigned injury.  
  
“Such a cruel ruler. You sure you’re the Queen of WInter and not the Grinch?”  
  
“I don’t even have a heart anymore according to Masego, so it can’t grow three sizes small or large.”  
  
Archer picked herself off the floor, dusting her leathers off. She cocked her head up at the portal above Catherine’s head, eying it curiously. Through the bottom she saw a room filled with tomes and benches, lit by the unfailing light of magecraft.  
  
“Does that go where I think it does?”  
  
Catherine’s professionally neutral face grew a small, crooked smile.  
  
“For the next five minutes.”  
  
Archer disappeared before she even finished speaking. The path to Masego’s tower was a bit long, but she calculated that Archer would probably be able to make it if the wards hadn’t changed too much. Two minutes later a shout and a crash were heard through the portal right before it closed.  
  
  


\---

  
  
“Snowmen are perfect! You literally have an infinite amount of snow on hand. And it’s something where you guys can have fun without turning it into something murderous.”  
  
I hated that I had to add the last part. Snow angels had been shot down, on account of Catherine apparently having a rather hostile relationship with the real thing. Another thing to add to the list of weird fuckery in this world. White elephant had just been a mess, as everyone had latched onto the aspects of trick gifts and stealing gifts, except for Thief, who had ironically been the only one to bring a real gift. And the less that was said about their attempt at Christmas carols, the better.  
  
“We don’t make everything murderous,” Thief protested.  
  
Ratface nodded along. “We also smuggle.”  
  
“And steal stuff,” Robber added.  
  
“And commit blasphemy.”  
  
“And treason.”  
  
Everyone turned to look at Catherine as she spoke that last line.  
  
“Just a spot of it,” she said with a chagrined smile.  
  
I groaned, holding my hands up, “I’m going to ignore all that. This is easy. Anyone can do it. You just make two or three spheres and stack them. Then you can put sticks for arms or pieces of coal for eyes or put a hat on it. Boom, a snowman.”  
  
The Villains and associated company nodded, spreading out as Catherine augmented the light dusting of snow with a veritable blizzard. The courtyard was filled with several feet of fluffy white snow in minutes and everyone got to work.  
  
Hakram industriously was rolling a snowball nearly half the size himself as his base. The orc’s large biceps bulging as he steadily rolled it larger and larger. Robber was suspiciously just rolling a small snowball around aimlessly in what was far too innocent for the goblin to be honestly doing. Masego had taken to standing back and manipulating the snow with magic, perfect spheres of smooth, glistening snow were plucked out of the heaps and stacked atop each other with precision. Archer was sloppily rolling her own snowman together, with proportions that were both ridiculous and inappropriate. Ratface meanwhile seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself with Juniper, both of whom had managed to take the idea at its spirit and were making what could’ve passed as a perfectly normal snowman on Earth if not for the Orcish fangs Juniper had added.  
  
Catherine was shaping the snow that she held domain over, making what was, frankly, a rather lumpy and ungainly snowman.  
  
Hakram gave her a look and she quickly threw a flurry of snow at him.  
  
I had my own that I was working on. It was, I thought, a respectable example of a generic snowman. I didn’t even have my powers helping me, since bugs weren’t exactly well suited towards building snowmen. But it was turning out well, like the kind of snowman that you might find on the lawn of any family around Christmas. A little uneven, but solid, and recognizably a snowman.  
  
The quiet industry of building was broken by the barking laughter of Juniper.  
  
“Foundling, how is it that yours is the ugliest one of all?” Juniper said. “Even Thief did better and her hands are shaking.”  
  
Thief had her hands folded into her armpits, rubbing them for warmth. “I forgot to bring gloves, that’s all.”  
  
Foundling scowled back, “I went to the War College, you should recall we didn’t exactly have any art classes.”  
  
Juniper snorted, “I didn’t see any classes in making eldritch abominations either, but you seem to be doing that just fine here.”  
  
“I think it’s a fine piece. Properly horrifying for a snow-devil,” Hakram said with a perfectly straight face.  
  
“That’s it.”  
  
Catherine poured snow into her misshapen monstrosity. I watched as it grew in size, towering over even Hakram. As it grew larger and larger it began to move, pulling itself up by uneven arms, more growing as the snow bulked it up. A bulky arm swung down, aiming for Hakram’s snowman. The orc jumped in the way, arms stretched wide to grab the limb. Instead of grappling it, the limb just exploded around him, burying him in a mound of snow as it toppled his snowman.  
  
Archer cheered, shouting, “Snowman fight!”  
  
Smaller versions of the snow monsters began to rise out of the snow as Catherine jumped up, riding atop the original and largest.  
  
Masego incanted and his snowman began to move, it’s base rolling underneath it like a wheel as it plowed forward to skirmish with the opposing snowmen. In moment’s the courtyard became a chaotic battleground. Everyone was trying to take out each other’s snowmen or defend their own. Somehow it had transformed into a free for all. Ratface stalwartly defended his and Juniper’s snowman as Juniper charged, crashing into a smaller snowman Catherine had sent and tearing it apart. Thief was running away as several chased her, shivering and looking blue around the lips as she got pelted with snow.  
  
Hakram pulled himself out of the pile of snow and started to charge towards Catherine’s mount. Meanwhile I could sense Robber sneaking up behind mine. He held something in his hand. Goblin munitions if I had a guess. My swarm formed up in front of him.  
  
“Don’t even think about it,” I said through my bugs.  
  
He gave an apologetic smile that I didn’t believe and disappeared into the snow. Ah, so he was tunneling underneath it. That explained how he had snuck through the courtyard turned battlefield.  
  
I groaned, taking a few steps back and leaning against one of the walls. The guards who held the gate were looking warily at the ongoing battle.  
  
“Do they always act like this?”  
  
The guards looked at each other and then the one closest nodded slowly.  
  
“And I thought _my_ band of murderous, stealing, treasonous villains was dysfunctional…”  
  
  


\---

  
  
Robber watched as everyone huddled inside, clutching mugs of warmed drink. Thief huddled in her chair, covered in blankets and closest to the fire. Archer was lounging as she dried out by the fire. Hakram stoically sat a middling length away, trying not to give up the fact that he was freezing. Orcs were harder to read, but the goblin had long since gotten a bead on Foundling’s right hand. Any other night and Hakram would’ve just taken whichever seat was left. Tonight he had immediately maneuvered for that one. Not so close that he’d display any visible preference, but the orc was definitely feeling being buried under a few tons of snow repeatedly.  
  
Juniper was resting victoriously with a smug, self satisfied look. She had turned the wizard’s get and Foundling against each other early on, managing to come out on top by virtue of letting everyone else self destruct. Foundling was half sulking in the corner, muttering something about magic being bullshit.  
  
Everything was, roughly speaking, normal. Except for the one concerning part of the night, which was Skitter. She hadn’t wanted to participate at all and had been distant ever since. Robber had been with her enough to know the girl turned inwards when she was upset. He suspected that their more mischievous attitude wasn’t what she had wanted for Christmas. She was far from home and trying to reclaim that little bit of security that familiarity brought.  
  
Well, who ever said Robber was a traitorous, good for nothing subordinate?  
  
Many people, but most of them didn’t matter and Catherine said it as a compliment.  
  
He had a plan to make the girl who had given him the joy of riding giant spiders into combat happy. Santa Claus might not be able to reach Calernia, but Robber would make sure she had a good Christmas even so. He’d just have to get his own Santa Claus.  
  
While everyone warmed up and bickered light-heartedly he sidled up to Skitter, asking innocently, “What did you say that Santa Claus guy looked like again?”  
  
  


\---

  
  
I winced and then tried to cover it up quickly. I swallowed the thick drink as quickly as I could.  
  
“It’s ok, it’s just not supposed to be so...eggy,” I said.  
  
Ratface and Aisha looked to each other and frowned, “It’s called eggnog though, isn’t it?” Ratface asked.  
  
I nodded. “It is. But it’s creamier. It’s sweet and creamy, but alcoholic. I think.”  
  
Ratface raised an eyebrow, “You aren’t sure?”  
  
I shook my head, “Dad never let me drink the real stuff. Though I guess I could’ve just gotten some after…”  
  
After I had cut ties. After I had taken over a city. Not after I got transported to a weird, fucked-up fantasy world though. Apparently they didn’t do eggnog. Some of their attempts had been decent, but it certainly wasn’t worthy of being a traditional drink for the biggest holiday of the year. So far nothing had really gone right. Maybe Christmas just wasn’t compatible with Calernia. It certainly felt like I wasn’t most of the time.  
  
A booming voice interrupted my thoughts.  
  
“Ho ho ho! Is that a sad girl I spy? Have some Christmas cheer!”  
  
I looked up in shock. Shock fell way to awe and confusion. Before us stood a tall man dressed in red dyed furs with white trim. A great white beard on his face and rosy cheeks. He was a bit more buff than I had ever imagined Santa Claus, but he looked the part. Everything from the twinkle in his eyes to his boots. And by his boots was another figure, dressed in red and green, with a floppy hat on his head.  
  
“Robber!” I shouted. “And…Santa Claus?”  
  
The tall man gave a half bow, taking the large bag of gifts he had slung over his shoulder and setting it down.  
  
“That’s right! My little helper here told me that you needed some festive spirit and good cheer.”  
  
Robber gave a double thumbs up from his side.  
  
Santa Claus pulled a package wrapped in colored paper and tied with a bow from his bag. It had my name written across it in large rough letters. He smiled and gave me a wink.  
  
“Merry Christmas!”  
  
For the first time in weeks I felt a smile on my face. I stood up, giving him a hug. He hesitated for a second before hugging me back. I knew Santa Claus wasn’t real, but right now I didn’t care. It felt just a bit like home, like back when I was a kid and a visit to the mall and a hug from Santa could make everything seem bright and cheery. As he pulled back I reached out, grabbing Robber and pulling him in for another hug as he squirmed.  
  
“Thanks Robber.”  
  
“Anytime boss.”  
  
The door behind the pair was pushed open again as Catherine, Hakram, Killian, and Juniper looked into the room. They looked between Santa Claus and me and I smiled.  
  
“This is Santa Claus guys! He even brought presents!”  
  
A few looks were traded back and forth before they all settled on Catherine. She shrugged and everyone seemed to relax, spreading out. Santa Claus handing out gifts marked for each and every one. A hand carved chess board for Juniper, a practical and comfortable looking quill for Ratface. A polished axe with an engraving ‘If lost please return to...’ for Hakram. Some sort of leather harness for Killian, which she blushed at. Even Catherine got a gift, a small glass sculpture of a woman standing over a goat, surrounded by a sea of blazing green flames.  
  
As gifts were received Archer took a deep swig from her freshly gifted flask. She lowered her flask from her lips, looking around with a wary gaze. After a minute of unexpected quietness from the usually boisterous woman, she spoke up.  
  
“Hey guys, anyone else seeing three ghosts rambling about the past and future? No? Just me? Ok then.”  
  
She shrugged, taking out a pair of long knives and twirling them in her hands.  
  
“At least I get to keep the kills for myself then. Does it still count if they’re already dead?”  
  
  


\---

  
  
Catherine pulled Robber to the side as Santa Claus went about, distributing gifts around the room.  
  
“Robber, how in the Hells did you get Klaus Pappenheim to dress up as Santa Claus and all the way out here?”  
  
“Santa’s helpers are sworn to secrecy Foundling,” he replied with a mischievous grin.  
  
“You know that all common sense says I should kill him after Skitter goes to bed,” she said with an expectant look.  
  
Robber shrugged. “You could. But if you did you wouldn’t know where he parked the magic sleigh.”  
  
Catherine eyed him, speaking slowly, “Magic sleigh?”  
  
Robber nodded. “The one I requisitioned from the Dread Empress. Under your name of course, boss. Apparently Warlock is very fond of it.”  
  
Catherine closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course you did. Do I even want to know how you got Pappenheim to agree to this? Is it related to whatever you gave Indrani?”  
  
Robber simply smiled back, razor sharp teeth ruining his attempt at an innocent look.  
  
  



	31. 3.4a - Triumph

### 3.4a - Triumph

  
  
“And might I ask just whoeth the fuck are thou?”  


  * Unverified leaked transcript of first contact during the Brockton Bay Incident.

  
  
Triumph had only been on the Protectorate for a few short years. He had never imagined himself as first responder to Glaistig Uaine of all people. It was a natural reaction, he told himself, to be panicking a little.  
  
He touched his earpiece as the two roughed up capes started off towards the PRT building.  
  
“Console, this is Triumph. Urgent news.”  
  
“Console here Triumph, what’s wrong?” Answered the calm, collected voice of Susan, one of the PRT agents.  
  
Triumph swallowed as he balanced talking with a light run. “Ran into two unknown capes on 12th and Houston street. Went by Squire and Hierophant, real roughed up. They said the Faerie Queen is here, that they were escaping her. I’m scouting the area.”  
  
Console took a moment to reply and Triumph knew exactly why. He’d have done the same, processing news like that.  
  
“Confirmed Triumph. Protectorate members will be dispatched to your location. Report your findings. No reported break out from the Birdcage at this moment.”  
  
Of course there wasn’t. It wasn’t common knowledge outside the Protectorate, or in it even, but Glaistig Uaine had chosen to be caged. If she wanted to walk right back out, he somehow doubted even the Birdcage would stop her. Brockton Bay just seemed to be a magnet for bad luck, so it would figure she’d teleport for the start of her big return to his city.  
  
The last few months had been quiet too. Skitter disappearing right after Tagg’s crackdown on the city had led to an initially uneasy peace. That had somewhat held. The Undersiders hadn’t gone quiet like he expected, but they had backed off the PRT. The Fallen had taken the time to try and root themselves into the city, to some success.  
  
He came to the corner of a clearly abandoned bar. Beers and glasses were still sitting on tables as the shop sat eerily devoid of customers. His neck tingled with the sense of danger, the subtle and not so subtle clues from the area telling his brain that something was going down. He peeked around the corner, only to recoil back, shielding his eyes. The street ahead was drowned in light brighter than the noon sun, despite it being the middle of the night.  
  
He tapped his earpiece again.  
  
“Console, Triumph on site. I can’t get a good view, there’s an incredibly bright light filling the street. Doesn’t match any known capes in the city.”  
  
“Copy that Triumph. Hang back and report any changes. Back-up will be with you shortly.” Console tersely informed him.  
  
Back-up? Who could they possibly send that could deal with this he thought. Miss Militia was a veteran but her power only could do so much. Assault had gotten less funny and more unhinged after losing Battery. Adamant might be able to frontline for them for a bit, but he wasn’t sure how well the Brute would hold up against a Trump. Sere wasn’t that trustworthy in his opinion, and he’d rather have someone he could trust right now.  
  
He peeked around the corner again, shielding his eyes preemptively. The street was still blazing like the midday sun, but with his eyes shielded he had time to adjust. The light was bright, but not blinding. In the middle of the street floated a girl, no older than maybe fourteen, with long brunette curls. He squinted against the glare, on the other side of the street tendrils of darkness were being burned back. The Undersiders? This was part of their established territory. Even they wouldn’t have the balls to take on Glaistig Uaine though.  
  
“Console, update. Source of the light is a small girl, maybe thirteen-fourteen years old. There’s some dark smoke on the other side, the Undersiders might already be engaged.”  
  
A beep came through his headset. “Confirmed. Pull back Triumph. This is being escalated.”  
  
Triumph grimaced as he pulled away from the corner of the building. He wasn’t being a coward he told himself. He had orders to retreat. Even if it felt wrong, leaving the site of a possible S class threat. No sirens had gone off. Civilians filled the buildings along this street. If whatever was going on between the Undersiders and the Faerie Queen blew up, there’d be no one else close enough to save people.  
  
He slowed his jog to a walk. His power was good. Not amazing, but it did enough.  
  
He stopped walking and turned around.  
  
“Fuuuuuck,” he said entirely to himself, jogging back to the street corner.  
  
He knew about all the local capes and he was even pretty knowledgeable about capes in the surrounding cities. It was important as a member of the Protectorate to know who was in range for a day trip to the city, who might know whom. Naturally he was aware of the famous ones as well. The Triumvirate. The Slaughterhouse Nine. The Faerie Queen. The thing was, he was quickly realizing, was that he had no idea what the Faerie could actually do. She could kill with a touch and summon the powers of capes she killed. It was about as useful as describing Eidolon as a cape that could use three powers. Not inaccurate, but entirely useless if he was right in front of you.  
  
Rory let out a heavy sigh from under his mask. He knew he was the least experienced cape on the roster, but he wanted that to stop defining his career. He wanted to be more, to do more. He just hadn’t been able to take risks like he used to. Not since that night when his lungs had closed in on themselves and he had nearly died. He hesitated now and he knew it.  
  
He leaned around the corner again and saw that the light was gone. The street was wrecked, looking like it might on the noon of a hot August day. The pavement had that dry scorched look, the weeds and little greenery were brown and wilted. Everything looked bleached, as if by intense sunlight. Considering it was the middle of the night, it looked eerily out of place, illuminated as it was by the dim street lights.  
  
The Faerie Queen had moved on then. He considered trying to evacuate the area briefly, but immediately discarded it. With no idea where she was or where she might move they could just as easily be moving people towards danger as away from it.  
  
He moved down the street towards the other end. It was the only way she could’ve gone. He felt vaguely ill in his midsection and pushed it out of his mind. He checked around the corner of the next intersection. Another scorched street, and on this one there was some debris. A knocked over trash can, a shattered store window slightly further down. A running fight then.  
  
He followed the trail of mild destruction. By cape standards it was pretty light.  
  
His headset beeped as the line to console re-opened, “Triumph, this is Console. Dragon has confirmed status of Birdcage. Glaistig Uaine is accounted for.”  
  
What?  
  
He replied, “Console, well the Undersiders are fighting someone and there’s a lot of heat damage around here.”  
  
“Copy that Triumph. Back-up is en route. Situation is tentatively being de-escalated in threat rating until further info comes in.”  
  
He grimaced. Somehow the news that Glaistig Uaine wasn’t behind this wasn’t making him feel better. It meant there was a cape powerful enough that she had been mistaken for the infamous Faerie Queen and that they had no idea who it was. He rounded another corner and heard a yelp from the street. Three monstrous dogs were slowly retreating, still facing and snarling at the same glowing girl from before as they did. One was behind the other two, clearly scorched, its skin sloughing off in places and its fur smoldering.  
  
“Rachel! C’mon!” He heard shouted from the other side of the altercation.  
  
The girl glanced his way and he froze in place for a moment, hating himself as soon as he realized he did. Forcing himself to take a step forward, he projected his voice with just a touch of his power.  
  
“I’m Triumph, of the local Protectorate. Everyone here is to stand down and stop using their powers. No one is under arrest as of this moment.”  
  
The girl suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning forward with her hands clasped behind her back. Wide brown eyes examining him, staring into his soul with an age that didn’t match her youthful appearance.  
  
“And just who might you be? The rulers of this land, perhaps? Nonetheless, I brook no issue with your petty kingdom as long as you allow me to return with those I have claimed as mine.”  
  
He straightened his back as he steadied himself, managing to speak without sounding off-balance he thought. “The Protectorate is happy to discuss returning you to your home if you’ve been brought her as a result of someone’s powers. Who else came with you?”  
  
“The one who reeks of being too clever for her own good and the dissector of miracles, the Squire and the Heirophant. I will be requiring them from wherever they have scuttled off to,” she said with a snarl behind her shining toothy smile.  
  
Triumph paused, trying to defuse the situation. “We cannot promise the return of any individual capes who might not want to go with you, but-”  
  
The girl didn’t change, yet the heat around the two of them suddenly became oppressive. Triumph stumbled, his breath burning his lungs.  
  
“That was not a request, you-”  
  
Her reply cut off as a crack split the air and the girl flying into the side of a building, crashing into the brickwork with a resounding thud.  
  
“Triumph! Get back now! Thinkers are reportin-” Miss Militia said, her voice crackling over his comms, breaking up as a sudden wave of interference rolled through his headset.  
  
The building turned to ash around her as the girl rose into the air, untouched by the high caliber round that had just collided with her head. She turned, dusting off her hair before straightening some of her locks out. And then she turned right towards him.  
  
“Oh fuck me.” Triumph stared at her, frozen in place even as another round shot through the air.  
  
“How do you _survive_ out here? Come on!” He felt a hand pull at the back of his costume’s collar, lifting him haphazardly over the back of one of the mutant dogs used by the Undersiders. Even as Grue’s darkness enveloped them he could see the light already burning through it.  
  
“Where are we going?” He asked, dazed and still watching with growing horror as the city just kept brighter behind them.  
  
“To find these Squire and Heirophant assholes,” Tattletale answered.  
  
  



	32. 3.5 - Taylor

### 3.5 - Taylor

  
  
“Let it be known that while fear does reliably spoil the taste of the meat, meat does not reliably spoil the fear. A prisoner’s last meal before the sacrificial ritual can therefore include meat without worry about lessening the effectiveness.”  
-Excerpt from the collected works of Nadrasi, chief sorcerer during the reign of Dread Emperor Abominable  
  
  
I woke to a small, grubby hand pressing itself to my mouth and absolute chaos on a hundred fronts. If I hadn’t been in so many fights by this point, I might’ve attacked Robber before I realized what was happening. Instead, I slowly got my bearings and gave him a nod. Relief flooded those scheming little eyes as he received my recognition. He held a single finger up to his lips, in what was apparently a universal gesture for silence even across species. It made sense, given he had all the same basic parts, but it was just a small thing that stuck out to me.  
  
Inside my brain a hundred different fights were all needing my attention. My hordes had kept on their last orders since I was ambushed, which very fortunately included not eating the survivors. Small blessings there. But my lack of reaction to the probing attacks of the zombie hordes and Praesi mages had meant that I was currently in the process of being outmaneuvered. They hadn’t managed to do it yet, meaning I must’ve not been out for long, but I could see from my eyes around the city that they were redistributing their forces around mine. I could fix that, given some time, but being put on the back foot was not something I needed at the moment. I needed information, both from my swarm and from within the keep, so I looked about.  
  
We were clearly inside the keep still. Not, as I would’ve suspected, in a storage closet, but instead in what looked like an armory of sorts. Basic weapons I would’ve seen at any history museum of the medieval ages were stacked in racks as far as I could see. Three goblins from Robber’s crew were covering the door. I recognized Borer and Hustler as they lurked around the edge of the frame. Beside them were several corpses from what looked like a mix of guards and mages, tucked around the corner so they wouldn’t be visible from the doorway. When I squinted a bit I could see a razor thin tripwire setup next to the door. Combined with the goblin lurking above the frame and I got an idea as to how we were holding the room. After a moment they gave a signal that must’ve meant all clear, because Robber began to talk.  
  
“Had me worried there boss. Good to have you back with us.”  
  
I shifted and found my body didn’t hurt as much as I expected it to after falling from a literal castle tower. Had I just been lucky? I had been pulled by that figure right before I could finish off the Diabolist. I quelled the rising grumble in my throat. This reeked of some sort of story bullshit. No one would take a fall like that so well in Bet without a Brute power.  
  
“How long was I out? What’s going on?” I asked quickly.  
  
“Only a few minutes. Entire keep is in a frenzy. Whatever you did up there got them moving for sure,” he replied with an evil grin.  
  
That definitely smelled of story shenanigans. Concussions didn’t work that way. I had recovered from one myself and I certainly hadn’t woken up a few minutes later feeling only a bit worn out.  
  
I answered preemptively, knowing he’d pester me for the answer anyway. “I shot Akua. She lived.”  
  
He clicked his teeth. “Nasty habit that. I ever tell you ‘bout this William guy? Just would not die. Actually got a specific Aspect for not dying. Can you believe that?”  
  
“Sounds about like the bullshit I’ve come to expect. Where’s the rest of your group?” I asked, noting it was only the five of us.  
  
Robber grimaced a bit. “We took some losses getting in here. And then again with grabbing you. This place is lousy with wards.”  
  
Fuck. I knew he wasn’t the type to complain, well complain about real problems, but that sounded a lot like his forces were on the ropes. The goblins I had met were all vicious, conniving little bastards, with the exception of Borer who mostly seemed to just be trying to survive it all, but I hadn’t wanted to see them hurt. They were also clever, witty, and remarkably insightful. The only person I was truly adamant on seeing die at the moment was Diabolist. Remembering the look in her eyes from after I had shot her, I had the sneaking suspicion the feeling was very mutual.  
  
My spider army was holding. Repositioning to account for the change in the flow of battle had saved me from significant losses, but I was still stuck between a rock and a hard place. The keep was on high alert. Diabolist was wounded, but alive. My forces were positioned between fortified mages and a zombie horde. I couldn’t retreat into the city without risking the remaining civilians, nor advance into the keep. I needed several things for a victory. I needed to kill the Diabolist and likely some portion of her upper staff to stop her forces. I needed to protect the civilians that were left. I needed to get Robber, his crew, and myself out of this alive.  
  
My thoughts were broken by the door opening. A guard stepped inside, immediately began to trip, and was stabbed at least twenty odd times as he went down with three goblins on him, one shoving a rag into his mouth to muffle the shout of surprise. Well, that sure was a way to tell me we were running on borrowed time.  
  
I looked to Robber. “I have a spider army pinned between zombies and the keep walls. We’ve presumably got only a few minutes before your growing pile of corpses gets noticed. What have you got left?”  
  
Robber rooted around his various pouches, holding up sticks and powders of alchemical origin that I was pretty sure shouldn’t be handled directly like that. “A handful of brightsticks and sharpers left. Out of smokers.” He held up a wriggling fistful of bugs that had been within my senses but ignored. “A handful of spiders.” Next pulling out a series of knives from increasingly unlikely places. “Four knives.” He grabbed one last pouch and held it up. “And a tiny, tiny bit of goblin fire that was most certainly properly requisitioned.”  
  
I frowned. None of that sounded terribly useful. “What’s goblin fire good for?”  
  
The way his grin grew two sizes too big gave me a bit of alarm. “Oh boss. What isn’t it good for?”  
  
I folded my arms, chewing on my tongue as I thought. “What’s it do?”  
  
  


\---

  
  
“Holy shit,” I breathed out as I watched the green flames consume the battlements. They climbed up the stonework fretfully slow in places, but in others raced along wood like normal fire. The green fire climbed up around the walls, consuming the invisible wards laid down around the keep, bright flashes of flame as they encountered runes and magical traps worked into the masonry itself. The Praesi had quickly abandoned the wall we had set fire to, forming a kill zone around it as best they could.  
  
Watching the green flames consume everything indiscriminate of material or physics was reminiscent of some of the Tinkers back home. The blatant disregard for how the world should work. Also the sheer effectiveness of it. A pouch full of small clay balls had burned a hole in what I suspected was one of the most warded fortresses on the continent. I made a mental note that I was going to need some of this stuff when I returned home.  
  
It had taken us hours of maneuvering and sneaking as night fell to get the goblin fire into place. I had sacrificed no small amount of spiders to keep enough pressure on the keep walls that the Diabolist couldn’t simply swarm the keep to look for me. Now that dawn was coming, our plan was finally kicking off. The goblin fire on the battlements ahead was only the opening gambit. By now, the other stages were ready and starting to begin.  
  
Robber was cackling in that disturbing way that goblins did where they managed to sound like they were in pure schadenfreudic bliss, but usually as they stabbed someone in the kidneys or something like that. At least I was saved the cackling of his remaining tenth, as they were off setting the rest of the plan in motion.  
  
I turned to him. “I’m going to need more of that.”  
  
“No can do Boss. That right there is one of the most tightly controlled substances in all of Praes,” he said with a shit-eating grin.  
  
I snorted. “Which is why you had a pouch full of it.”  
  
He looked up at me, in a perfect mimicry of confused innocence. “Me? Where? What a shame that Akua was foolish enough to deploy goblin fire against her own troops though. Villains, am I right?”  
  
I turned away, rolling my eyes. “If this city wasn’t already a massive clusterfuck, I’d have a lot of qualms about this, but at this point I’ll be happy if we get out of here alive.”  
  
“Regretting trying to pick a fight with the biggest gal in the prison block?” He replied without missing a beat.  
  
I furrowed my brow as I watched the battlements burn, busily coordinating my spiders. The Praesi were still making a killzone using magic but I was pushing through with sheer body mass. My awareness of the battlefield was telling me that they were reacting about as expected, pouring forces forward to defend the growing gap.  
  
“Is that a thing here too? Wait, nevermind. We can do a cultural exchange when I’m not invading a city with giant spiders to stop a mad sorceress’s coup.”  
  
I paused. “My life has gotten so fucking weird.”  
  
“Fortunately that will not be a problem for much longer. Also, while mostly correct, I resent that description of events.”  
  
I pulled the pistol from my belt, turning around to look for the source of the voice that my bugs were telling me wasn’t there. The Diabolist stood behind the two of us. Her dress changed to a one of a long, trailing style, entirely black with silver embroidery. It covered the wound I had given her earlier and she looked at me like she was dissecting a frog on a lab bench.  
  
I knew it probably wouldn’t work, but I fired the gun anyway.  
  
The bullet didn’t hit her. I wasn’t able to see what happened to it, given that it was a bullet over a few feet, but she was evidently able to counter it. She looked at me in what was disturbingly close to something predatory.  
  
“Fascinating. What exactly _are_ you?” She asked. Robber had tried to do that thing where he disappeared the second someone stopped looking at him, but his feet seemed to be stuck to the ground where he stood. He gave a helpless shrug up to me.  
  
“Not someone willing to speak to you,” I said, letting the swarm I had kept with us out of my costume and the surroundings, disappearing into a set of swarm clones.  
  
The Diabolist waved her hand casually to the side, a wind splattering the bulk of my swam into the stone and leaving me staggering as I whipped my baton out, lunging for her knees. She stepped back in a graceful motion and another gust of wind sent me reeling back, throwing a hand out to stabilize myself.  
  
“A puzzle like you is almost worth keeping alive to tease apart,” she said airily, almost narrating to herself rather than speaking to me.  
  
This was bad. My plan was working, but it wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t have my forces deep enough in the keep to back me up. I needed to buy time, but she wasn’t like fighting a cape. She was so much worse. Like fighting Eidolon. Someone who could gesture and counter anything I did with a thought. Especially now that she had survived some of my best surprises. I set my spiders to work, trying to get some silk into position above and behind her.  
  
“Almost...but I’m not that foolish. You nearly killed me and you did kill my Papa. Sometimes we have to do things that are distasteful. It’s a waste, but you go no further.”  
  
Robber, bless his tiny evil heart, threw a set of knives at the Diabolist. The knives swerved around her, flying back and burying themselves into Robber. I ground my teeth, ordering my spiders to rush inside, regardless of the losses I was taking. Praesi mages were being buried under a horde of bodies even as they cut down dozens a piece.  
  
I didn’t have enough time. I couldn’t get them here in time to save Robber or to stop the Diabolist. I directed what was left of my swarm to attack her, trying to buy even a few seconds.  
  
She curled her lips, uttering triumphantly, “**Claim**.”  
  
And then we both screamed.  
  
  



	33. 3.6 - Catherine

### 3.6 - Catherine

  
"Surprisingly, being poisoned by the Diabolist, lifted into the sky, filled with re-animated zombies, invaded by spiders, and subsequently set on fire was not the worst thing to happen to Liesse."  
-An Account of Historical Catastrophes, page 277  
  
  
I swung the metal and glass door shut, trying not to focus on how ridiculously wealthy Skitter’s home city had to be for every store to sport so much glass casually. Pressing myself back first against the wall to the side I saw Masego do the same opposite me. I leaned the very tip of my head out, glancing out into the street. The Named, or rather capes I supposed, that we had spotted a distance away were rapidly approaching, flying low over the street.  
  
“Wards?” I asked Masego, glancing towards the door meaningfully.  
  
“They’re in place. Your ice?”  
  
I was quickly forming a protective casing on the inside of the walls, both to strengthen the walls and give me a ready made reserve to attack from if need be. We weren’t here to pick a fight, but it was hard to forget how violent the city had been described as by Skitter. Seeing the plethora of glass and metal was hard to reconcile with her descriptions, but I wasn’t so green behind the ears as to let my guard down over that.  
  
“Ready,” I whispered, unsure of how common sensory powers were among Skitter’s peers.  
  
A reedy voice broke the tense silence behind us.  
  
“Hey look, if you wanna rob the shop go ahead. I only get paid seven bucks an hour, I won’t tell no one.”  
  
Masego and I both turned around, looking across the shop to the source of the voice. The shop was filled with metal shelves holding a plethora of brightly colored bags and gadgets, almost all of which were beyond my recognition. There was something vaguely resembling jerky covered in a shiny, clear wrapping and one wall definitely held drinks of some sort, but that was as far I was getting. The source of the voice was a young man who bore some resemblance to the people of Mercantis. He wore a bright purple shirt with a stylized picture of a jumping cow on it and embroidery beneath that spelled out “Don’t have a cow” and stood behind a metal counter with glass walls that went from counter-top to ceiling.  
  
Masego looked to me and I shrugged. “We’re not thieves. Who are you?”  
  
“Uh, I’m James,” said James. “You’re not gonna hurt me or anything will ya?”  
  
I was starting to get a little offended. “No, we’re not going to hurt you. Do we look like we would?”  
  
James shrugged, gesturing at us. “Well, kinda? I mean, you’re clearly capes, no offense. And I know all the heroes, so that kinda just leaves the villains.”  
  
He quickly added on, “Which isn’t a problem with me! Just, ya know, makes sense.”  
  
I glanced behind us at the door again. The fliers were passing by rapidly and heading in the direction we had come from. From the looks of it, they had taken no notice of us. I rapidly dissipated the ice and groaned a bit internally. This was not going to be easy. We clearly stuck out here even worse than Skitter did in our world, which meant staying unnoticed was likely a near impossible gambit. It was still worth trying, certainly better than announcing ourselves to a bunch of Na-capes with unknown abilities.  
  
I saw Masego had wandered a few steps over to one of the shelves and was staring at the merchandise with wide eyes, rapidly darting around the shelf. He held up a bag of what looked like brightly colored worms.  
  
“Shopkeeper, how much for one of these?”  
  
The man at the register blinked once. “Uh, probably a buck seventy five? It should say on the rack.”  
  
“Is a buck a kind of animal or is that the name of the denomination used here?”  
  
“A buck is money. You know, like a bill. A dollar. Cash?” the man fielded in response, tentatively.  
  
Masego nodded slowly. “Fascinating. And is it a minted coin of gold or a lesser metal?”  
  
I sighed, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him bodily away from the shelves of goods and back into the center aisle.  
  
“We don’t have time for shopping Zeze. We need a plan and I highly doubt they accept Praesi or even Callowan coinage,” I remarked dryly.  
  
Masego looked down at his bag of worms and then gave a resolute nod. Not dropping the bag though, I noticed. “You’re right, of course. My apologies. Do you intend to take the fight back to the Summer Queen then?”  
  
I barked out a laugh. “Back? Gods no, I’d be happy if we never see her again. I couldn’t move a finger against her, much less stab her. We’ll have to hope the...capes of this city can handle her. Unless you had any ideas?”  
  
His brows knit together in thought. “I think you are correct, the results of a second confrontation would be much the same as the first. I have noticed that as we’ve retreated from our entry site that my workings have become slightly more difficult. I don’t have enough data to say for certain, but I suspect if we were to lure her sufficiently far away from our arrival area, neither of us would have any substantial power left. I am confident in your ability to beat a teenage girl into submission, so I estimate we have a good chance in that scenario.”  
  
The clerk was looking at me with a rising mixture of confusion and horror. I closed my eyes and put two fingers to my temple, massaging it. Well, there went our somewhat friendly local contact. The more important matter was what Masego had said. While he had hedged his findings, Masego’s hedging was others' confident success. I had little doubt that he was right and that meant we were leashed to the original area. If we got too far away, we’d be weaker. If we stayed close, we’d be near the Summer Queen. Neither was an exactly thrilling proposition.  
  
“Are we losing power over time as well? Why didn’t this happen to Skitter?”  
  
“It’s too early for me to say definitively, but I believe we are not. As for Skitter, her mode of transit was entirely different to ours. Expecting similar results from a multi-dimensional tear and a bypassed summoning ritual with mis-fulfilled parameters is akin to expecting the same result from a simple warding spell as from a complex actively maintained barrier,” he said, growing increasingly roused.  
  
I held my hands up. “Okay, not the same as a barrier, got it. So, knowing that dimensional travel and magic is not my forte, can you explain it for me?”  
  
He adjusted his glasses and smiled lightly. “Of course. I’m glad to see you taking a deeper interest in magic. May I assume you’ve read Philosteine’s theories on dimensional bounding at least?”  
  
“Of course,” I baldly lied.  
  
“In that case I will use an analogy that he made great use of. Think of our dimension as an oil and this dimension as water. When a connection is made between the two, they will largely remained unmixed due to the lack of sufficient agitation to create an emulsion. When we entered, we reduced the dimensional equivalent to surface tension in our local area, permitting our rapid passage. However, we still retain an oil coating around us which allows us to retain our dimensional properties while interacting with the surrounding foreign environment. The analogy breaks down at this point as the ability to draw upon one’s magic is best explained by sympathetic principles and a mixture of the dimensional boundaries is better likened to the fluid flow dynamics of a lower viscosity fluid, but one naturally understands the limitations of such simple analogies. If you wish to know more, I can gladly explain it, but you did mention we are short on time,” he finished saying without, I was pretty certain, taking a single breath.  
  
I quickly replied, “No, no, that’ll suffice.”  
  
What I had grasped from that, hopefully correctly, was that we weren’t capable of fully mixing with this world over time, but if we drew too far away from our entry point we’d be weakened. I could work with that. Had to, if I was being honest with myself. I hardly understood enough of that to be an authority, but given Masego’s earlier statements about how long it would take him to return us I had an inkling of the kind of difficulties involved. Simply put, we were not messing with the rules here easily or quickly.  
  
I paced back and forth across a few feet of the main pathway between the rows of goods. What was our next step? Fighting the Queen of Summer wasn’t an option, not head on. While I might’ve been inclined to try a pattern of three, I wasn’t sure how well a story would work here. And a single wrong step in front of a being that powerful was likely to be our last step. As much as it irked me to shove my problems off on someone else I was going to have to trust in the Heroes of this world to handle her. Skitter had described them as much stronger than her and organized across an entire nation. I grimly thought that if the Summer Queen took a chunk out of the Heroes at least Skitter would probably be happy. Assuming she didn’t turn the girl’s home city into part of Summer.  
  
“How long to get us back? And can you un-agitate the boundary when we do?” I asked Masego suddenly.  
  
He hummed in thought, “Hmmm. No less than two weeks, though that greatly depends on what resources are available here.” He visibly grinned after a moment. “You wish to strand the Queen here without access to her power in the event she is not contained. I approve of this tactic, the Heroes should be well capable of downing her in such an event.”  
  
“Two weeks?” I half-asked, half-murmured. “If she isn’t handled by then I doubt what we do will matter. Is there any way we can do that part first? Faster?”  
  
Masego was discreetly slipping a second item of brightly colored worms into his robes. “Certainly, but doing so would leave us in much the same position. I am unsure we would be able to return under our own power in that case.”  
  
Frustrating, but it made sense. Stranding her would strand us as well. I was getting ahead of myself anyway. There was no way we’d go two days, much less two weeks, without her tracking us down if she wasn’t put down soon. We needed a plan for the interim. I glanced over at the man behind the counter, who was very patiently waiting for us in silence.  
  
“What about hiding? Can we blend in enough to make it difficult for her to find us?” I asked. “Or the Heroes while we’re at it,” I rapidly added.  
  
“Possibly. The Summer Queen outmatches even myself in terms of raw magical talent, but she would be unused to using it in this way. We will need a great deal more than just magic, however. We are unique to this world in many ways, which makes tracking us a great deal easier than it would be in our Creation.”  
  
I frowned. “So we need to ditch our gear somewhere and get costumes.”  
  
I turned to look at James. James, to his credit, seemed to quickly realize what I was thinking from the way he took a half step back.  
  
“James, I’m afraid you’re right. I think we are robbing this store now. Also, we’re going to need your clothes.”  
  
  


\---Some hours later---

  
  
Dawn had come and Masego and I found ourselves strolling down a place called the Boardwalk, which seemed to be an extravagant collection of shops and attractions along the beach. Despite the early hour, some of the shops were open and there was a light trickle of traffic. I looked over to Masego, who was wearing the shirt and trousers we had taken from James.  
  
“It is accurate, because I do not have a cow,” he had stated with some satisfaction.  
  
Poor James had been compensated with what Masego assured me was only a minor magical artifact, but well worth the cost of the goods we had taken. I wasn’t sure exactly what the poor shop-minder would do with such, but I had explained to Zeze that I had sadly left my coinpurse in Arcadia so it was the best we could do.  
  
For my part, I was dressed in a jacket with some strange local symbology marking it. An iron cross on the back, likely some sort of military affiliation, and some runic looking markings on one sleeve. As James had been far too tall, and also too naked, for me to get an outfit from I had had to get creative. Fortunately it hadn’t been too difficult to find some local thugs close enough to my size and cobble together an outfit. No one here was wearing half-melted plate or long robes, so I was relatively proud of how well we blended in. I was getting the occasional look, but I suspected that was due to the relative lack of darker skinned people in this region. Most of those I saw on the street were more in line with those of Black’s ancestors, particularly pale and pasty.  
  
“Catherine, can we stop in that shop? They appear to stock reagents.” Masego pointed to one of the store fronts that was open for business this early. A collection of different types of crystals, rocks, and charms on display.  
  
“As long as you only get what is necessary. We only have ninety six dollars,” I replied. I was reluctant to just go around robbing people for money, but it was clear that barter wasn’t a common practice here and what coinage Masego had was either worthless or too difficult to trade.  
  
“The concept of cotton money is fascinating. Were it not for the myriad of wooden structures and cloth decorations I would’ve assumed it represented some lack in local agricultural industry. I wonder how they keep such a common material from being abused for counterfeiting?”  
  
That one scored us some odd looks from the couple passing by. Well, nothing for that. Even in Praes Zeze got odd looks from people. That simply wasn’t going to change no matter how good our disguises were.  
  
I took out a bill of the lowest denomination and looked at it, tilting it this way and that. “Good question. The pattern’s a bit complex. Maybe that’s how?”  
  
“Ah, but if garments such as ours are common place that implies an easy capability to produce complex patterns and designs on cloth,” he countered with.  
  
I gave him a shrug, handing the bill over for him to inspect. He graciously took it from me, his hands flipping it over, rolling it up, and stretching it in examination. I had to admit, the particulars of currency production and management weren’t of much interest to me. I had friends like Ratface and Aisha who understood the dynamics of such much better than I. My particular speciality was in low demand at the moment, as we were trying very much not to draw attention.  
  
We entered the shop, pushing aside a curtain of beads that served no purpose but decoration as far as I could tell. The interior of the shop smelled like a temple, incense thick in the air, nearly cloying. I looked at the goods on display. Small ceramic bowls with various inscriptions, crystals of different colors. A whole lot of rocks. I couldn’t say I was overly impressed, but I had seen what Masego could do with a bowl of cold soup and a piece of chalk when irate, so I was happy to let him take the lead on what might be useful here.  
  
“Hello!” called out the shopkeeper sweetly, a woman in her middle years. “Got some early risers, I see! Can I help you with anything?”  
  
I let out a mental sigh. _Oh dear._  
  
“Hello. Yes, actually. I was wondering if this quartz you have here is properly attuned to be used in rituals with High Arcana-” I tuned him out a bit as he went into specifics.  
  
_Zeze, you know they don’t do magic like we do here. You’re just going to confuse the lady._  
  
The lady, to my surprise, clapped her hands together excitedly. “A fellow practitioner! Oh, I’m only too glad to help. If you’re looking for something that can be used to open or close boundaries, might I recommend this topaz accompanied by-”  
  
I settled in next to a display of what were called singing bowls, tapping the little stick against the edge experimentally. This conversation wasn’t going to end any time soon.  
  



	34. 3.7 - Taylor

### 3.7 - Taylor

  
“So often the sacrifice of one’s citizens is deemed necessary by the state, but to what purpose? A state without its people is just a grazing field for cattle.”  
-King Edmund of Callow, the Inkhand  
  
  
I noticed that, at some point, I had stopped screaming.  
  
My head was like the fourth of July, with each firework being a starburst of explosive pain. Short lived, but strong and vivid. My entire world was the pain wracking the inside of my skull, only slowly giving way to trickles of sensation from the outside world. As I started to get a tiny, reedy strain of conscious thought back around the pain, I recognized this sensation. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was familiar to when I had taken that grenade from Bakuda. Where pain transcended what my brain could process and I was completely crippled from it.  
  
Across from me I picked up snatches of faint angry mutterings.  
  
“-will not...be overwhelmed, I am Akua Saheli-”  
  
I tried to crack open an eye, finding even the dim light of early day to be a new source of glaring pain. For a moment my eye screwed shut again, automatically protecting itself. I was buried under a mountain of unpleasant sensations and I needed to claw my way back. The only thought going through my head was the desperate, unrelenting need to regain control. It felt like an infinite abyss between me and my goal, each step promising to be harder than the last. I had to take those steps. Staying in the pain was a loss. It was unacceptable.  
  
Step by inchworm step I advanced forward, grabbing and clawing at each vestige of control that I could. Like pulling myself along a rope that strained and pulled against me. My progress in that liminal, timeless space occasionally marked by the mad ramblings that leaked in through my ears.  
  
“-establish a stabilization frame...must-”  
  
I couldn’t remember what was going on, only that I needed to get up. That I needed to act. I had to be making progress, even if I couldn’t see the end yet. I was feeling a bit more full, a bit more myself. My desperate, repetitive train of thought had just a bit more energy to it, to push that extra inch in every step. I couldn’t feel my swarm, I needed to get back, get close enough to be back in range.  
  
“-stop this before it’s too-” The voice was cut off with a sudden squelch.  
  
And then, like waking from a terrible nightmare, I was free. I bolted upright, shakily jumping to my feet and glaring over at the source of the sound. The Diabolist, I remembered. Everything came back to me at once, adrenaline starting to surge through my veins, my hands developing a fine tremor. I felt my swarm rush back into my awareness, control being re-established instantly over the tattered and still fighting remnants.  
  
But there was no one to fight.  
  
“Reporting one enemy combatant neutralized, ma’am,” reported the goblin in a bored monotone.  
  
I had to blink a few times to clear my vision entirely. The small goblin stood half atop the body of the Diabolist. She was, I noted, currently the receptacle for several knives, and the receiver of the one Borer was cleaning, which had left a wide and deep slash across her throat. The Diabolist was, this time, most certainly dead.  
  
“Captain Borer,” I said as I recognized him. “...Well done. You’re getting a medal after we sort this all out.” Borer had been among the goblins I had sent into the basement of the keep to check the viability of sneaking forces in from below.  
  
“Thank you ma’am,” the goblin said dryly. “Will Special Tribune Robber be alright?”  
  
“Robber!” I exclaimed, quickly moving over to him. He had been injured trying to buy me an opening. I took a quick look over him. He had two knives sticking out of his chest. With no knowledge of goblin physiology I wasn’t sure if that was a lethal wound or relatively manageable.  
  
Robber looked between Borer and myself before dramatically closing his eyes. “Truly I’ve died and gone to Hell. Only the Gods could be so cruel as to come up with me being rescued by Borer.”  
  
Borer rolled his eyes as I knelt down next to the goblin. “Talk to me Robber. I don’t know how to treat your kind. What do I do?”  
  
I managed the swarm while I looked over him. My spiders had been viciously taken advantage of while I was out, but from what I could tell I had only been out for a minute or two, despite it feeling like an eternity. Most of the Diabolist’s living forces were dead, only two main contingents of mages left and those were holed up quite deep in the keep. The main issue now was the horde of zombies pincering my forces from behind and the quickly tiring civilians in the middle of all this. They were getting increasingly panicky and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep them from doing something stupid.  
  
“Don’t take the blades out, I’ll bleed out like some idiot who brought a knife to a wand fight,” he said, managing a smile and a small laugh. “I’m afraid there ain’t much you can do unless you brought some supplies we didn’t.”  
  
I didn’t have any bandages with me and certainly nothing from Brockton Bay. Damn if I wasn’t missing my usual caping kit right about now. I knew how to sew well enough I might theoretically be able to close Robber up, but the risk of infection was pretty high. Not to mention it was a theoretical, seeing as how I had never done it and didn’t even have a needle on hand.  
  
I turned, grinding my teeth a bit. “Borer, any ideas?”  
  
Borer was staring off into the horizon, blank faced.  
  
“Borer?” I repeated, more insistently.  
  
He glanced over to me and then back to the horizon. “Apologies ma’am, no ideas. Also I am regrettably unfamiliar with flying fortresses. Are those clouds going up?”  
  
“What?” I asked iratedly, turning as I did to look for myself.  
  
Oh.  
  
The clouds were going up. Well, relative to us. We were going down. Liesse was falling.  
  
“Fuck, fuck,_ shit_…” I cursed, confirming the observation through the eyes of my swarm. I hadn’t noticed because I had been so concerned with helping Robber, fighting off the zombies, and calming civilians. It hadn’t occurred to me that we had just killed both the Diabolist and the majority of mages in the city. And set most of the magic in the keep, and the keep itself, on goblinfire. In retrospect, it made perfect sense Liesse was falling.  
  
Robber gave a wet cackle. “Now that’s one hell of a send off. You got a plan to get clear, boss?”  
  
I shook my head. “No. Maybe if it was just us, I could make some parachutes in time...probably not even then. But the civilians as well? I don’t know how long we have, but definitely not long enough to weave that many, distribute them, and fight our way to an edge.”  
  
Borer nodded along at my assessment. Robber merely looked at me inquisitively. “So what now? I’ve been around you long enough to know you’re not the type to quit, even when falling out of the sky in a giant burning castle full of unholy abominations.”  
  
What now indeed. I had to think quickly, there was very little time to work. I wasn’t sure how quickly Liesse would fall. At the moment we were descending slowly, but it felt like we were gaining speed. Whatever magic kept the city aloft was failing and when it went out completely, we’d drop like the million ton collection of rock, spiders, and corpses that we were. Not only were we fucked, but anything even close to our impact site was going to be destroyed.  
  
The question was: what could I do about it? Spiders, while amazingly versatile, couldn’t stop a falling city. A few parachutes for us would be pushing it, making enough to slow a city was ludicrous. Not to mention the zombie hordes weren’t all that likely to just leave my forces to work peacefully. Any attempt to leave the city was blocked by the zombies. We could punch a hole through with time, but time we didn’t have. My plans around taking the keep were essentially moot now. Even if the keep did have the flight magic controls I wasn’t a mage and had no idea how to use or repair them.  
  
No matter how I split it I simply couldn’t see a way to slow the city down or get all of us out in time. Hell, even if I just evacuated myself and the goblins I was probably running up against the clock already by spending so much time thinking about it. The only living people left in Liesse were us, the civilians, and the Praesi mages holed up in the keep…  
  
“Oooh, she’s got the same face as when she dropped a hundred thousand spiders on Liesse,” Robber said with only slightly tired glee.  
  
“Borer, keep Robber breathing by any means necessary. That’s an order,” I said, turning my attention outwards.  
  
The mages might be our only shot at getting us out of this alive. They were all assholes and criminals as far as I was concerned, but I doubted they wanted to crash into the ground at hundreds of miles per hour either. Not when they had fought me so tooth and nail for survival.  
  
I reached out to the part of my swarm closest to where they had last shot some fireballs out of a now barred doorway.  
  
Using my swarm voice, I spoke, “If you’re still alive in there, I’m interested in making a deal.”  
  
There was no immediate response, so I joined more voices to the swarm.  
  
“Liesse is falling. You have ten seconds to answer before my willingness to deal is gone,” I stated.  
  
At eight seconds the door opened. A group of mages were all cautiously holding the doorway, the shimmering blue of magical walls protecting them. They were all lavishly dressed, many sporting gold or jewelry, and all a little worse for the wear. The one who stepped forward to speak gave a small bow of his head. He was surprisingly handsome compared to my mental picture of mages, looking every bit like the rich noble from well kept hair down to expensive boots.  
  
“I am Lord Fasili. By the falling of the city I take it that Lady Akua has lost?” he asked.  
  
“She has,” I replied tersely. “The city has started to fall and we will all die if it is not stopped. I’m willing to consider a deal that doesn’t involve spiders if you think you can stop it.”  
  
I didn’t add in my second request just yet. Not need for them to know how much I was banking on this working just yet.  
  
“Mmm I’m afraid we’ll need more specific promises than that. Trading one death for another is hardly a deal worth pursuing,” he said. “Might I know who we address?”  
  
He just oozed scheming bastard, but I was already using my cape name, so I doubted he could get much from it.  
  
“You can call me Skitter,” I answered. “Here’s my offer. Find a way to stop the city and don’t interfere with my evacuation of its citizens. In exchange, I’ll generously ignore you once we’ve landed as long as you fuck off to somewhere that isn’t Praes.”  
  
Lord Fasili managed to pace in his tiny confine of magically protected area like he was taking a casual walk. “Only letting us go? Most of us have sunk our Houses’ fortunes into this enterprise, risked our lives. To ask us to start again with nothing-”  
  
“Is far more than you deserve,” I said, cutting him off. “Let me pose a question to your friends behind you. We have less than fifteen minutes by my estimate before this city crashes into the ground. Do you want your only chance at survival wasted because this jackass wants to try and sweeten the deal?”  
  
The group of mages traded a quick set of looks which, before they had even resolved on a consensus, seemed to spur Fasili into action. He stepped outside of his barrier, lowering the front of it and giving a bow.  
  
“We’d be pleased to cooperate. May I assume we have full run of the grounds? We’ll need to access what stabilizing arrays are still intact to have any hope of success,” he said with cloying sweetness.  
  
I had the feeling that the arrays he was talking about were part of what I had set fire to, but maybe trained mages could salvage something out of them. I had my spiders part, allowing paths between them. The mages were slowly gathering outside the doorway, but hesitating on passing the threshold past their barriers.  
  
“Fine. I’ll have spiders accompanying all of you to make sure no one feels particularly backstabby today,” I answered quickly, not wanting to waste any more time. I wasn’t sure, but it felt like we were falling faster again.  
  
Fasili held up a hand, “And what guarantee do we have that you won’t, as you say, ‘feel backstabby’?”  
  
I was entirely done with this man. I hadn’t particularly enjoyed the idea of cooperating with the same bastards who had taken part in slaughtering the city in front of me. That he was wasting my time when all of us were at risk wasn’t something I was going to put up with.  
  
“You don’t, because I have tens of thousands of spiders and there’s very little you can do if I decide I want you dead,” I hissed. “So maybe work on pissing me off less and making the city float more?”  
  
“Gods Below Fasili, we’ve long since lost, stop antagonizing the Named and move,” one of the mages said, pushing past the man and starting up a jog. I appreciated the shoulder-check, seeing as there had been plenty of room to the sides of Fasili anyway. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the rest of the mages starting to get a move on.  
  
I added on, calling out, “I’ll also need someone who can heal. One of my crew is injured.”  
  
The mage who had just shoulder-checked Fasili gave a nod to the nearest spider. “I can tend to that if you’ll direct me?”  
  
Finally, something was getting done. Now I just had to make sure it got done quickly enough. For my part there was little I could do to help directly. I re-organized my spiders to plug the same gaps I myself had made in the walls. The losses I had taken rushing the keep had put me at a disadvantage in raw numbers over the zombie horde. This would’ve been a problem if I had been intending to follow my original plan and recapture the city wholesale, but as is, we would be fine. I had more than enough forces to hold the grounds for a few days, much less a few minutes.  
  
I started herding the civilians towards the center of the keep. I had no illusions about the interior of the keep being safer than the outside, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have them closer to the rest of us in case of an emergency. The mage who had volunteered to heal Robber was en route, following my directions quickly and already nearly to the goblin. I sent a message to Borer to make sure he and the remaining goblins didn’t kill one of the few relatively unoffensive mages left.  
  
I watched the sky slowly shifting around us as we continued to lose altitude. Maybe not being close enough to an edge to see the ground was a good thing.  
  
  



	35. 3.8 - Catherine

### 3.8 - Catherine

  
  
”If drowning was good enough for the Miezans, it’s good enough for you. I have enough voices inside my head, I hardly need yours outside it.”  
-Dread Empress Massacre, on the execution of the Lord of Wolof  
  
  
“Thank you, your insights into the nature of magic in this area have been most helpful,” Masego said cheerily, handing over a stack of the strange paper bills.  
  
The shopkeeper flapped her hand dismissively, smiling just as broadly. “Oh not at all sonny. It’s a pleasure to help such a talented young man. Why, I’ve never seen mastery of arcana like that in one your age.”  
  
Masego waved his hand, the two bags filled to the brim with his magical reagents hovering slightly before I had to gently smack him on the shoulder. The bags floated back down to the countertop. I eyed the device she had used to change money with interest. A number had appeared on it as if by magic and then disappeared just as easily. It was hard to wrap my head around the casual use of technology that would’ve been valuable enough to bankrupt Mercantis.  
  
Masego shook his head. “There’s no excuse for laziness in the craft, but I understand that others may not have...the same proclivity for it that I do.”  
  
_Aw, look at that._ He struggled with it a bit, but he was getting better at recognizing that others couldn’t, and shouldn’t, be held to the same standards that he had for himself.  
  
We exited the shop with another round of prolonged goodbyes, Masego hauling both of the ungainly, lumpy bags that held his spoils. I was not carrying his questionably sourced rocks. He had spent a large portion of our funds even after extensive haggling, but it couldn’t be avoided. His magic was to be our way home. In the end, there was little better use for the money than securing the tools he needed. That said, I certainly wouldn’t have minded if he could’ve done it for a bit cheaper. At this rate we’d need to figure out a way to get more money if we were to pay for food until he was done.  
  
We finally managed to get out of the shop and back onto the Boardwalk, as it was called. It was a pleasantly sensical name. The area you walked on was made out of boards. Not like the three different streets all named Main Street that we had passed. More of the shops that faced the ocean front were open for business now, a good bell having passed while we were in the reagent shop.  
  
Heirophant was looking over his purchases with excitement, balancing one bag precariously so he could examine the brightly colored crystals at the top.  
  
“I liked that shopkeeper. We should visit that shop again Catherine,” he stated.  
  
I kept my eyes peeled, watching the people we passed by. Many of whom were giving us a bit more of a berth than was normal.  
  
“Maybe, once we get a base set up and our feet underneath us,” I replied.  
  
Masego seemed oblivious to the slow itching sensation I was getting that something was wrong. He spoke excitedly, “Surely we could requisition some help from Skitter’s kingdom? She previously controlled this city, did she not?”  
  
Two different guys that had been passing by us immediately gave us a wider gap as Masego spoke. There it was. I spotted two particularly tall and well muscled men trailing us on either side.  
  
I reminded him quietly, “She was a Villain Zeze, probably best for us to not openly speak about her. You noticed the number of Heroes who responded to our arrival.”  
  
He nodded in understanding. “Ah, that is true. A power vacuum does tend to lead to a predictable set of outcomes. Do you think any of her allies survived?”  
  
“I think those were the people we dropped the Summer Queen on,” I deadpanned.  
  
Masego pursed his lips together. “Unfortunate, I suppose we are without allies here then.”  
  
I certainly didn’t fault him for assuming they had bit it. An angry Summer Queen was not something you went up against without losses of some kind. Even if they weren’t her main targets, they likely had been caught in the collateral. And if they had survived, they’d harbor no small amount of ill will towards us for dropping the Summer Queen on them I suspected.  
  
“And without money,” I answered in turn.  
  
Any further rumination was interrupted by the man in a shirt that was so blue I would’ve suspected sorcery had we not been on a foreign world.  
  
“Couldn’t help but hear you’re having some money trouble folks! I just so happen to have the answer to that, if you’ll give me a minute of your time,” he said loudly and far too cheerily. My eyes narrowed as I looked over the display behind him, a small stand with banners and knives.  
  
“What solution would you propose?” Masego replied immediately.  
  
The man seemed to take that as an invitation to move closer. “It’s very simple my good man. What we have here today is a selection of fantastic knives of all types. Here, see for yourself. This is Damascus clad steel with a beautiful D-shaped three rivet handle.”  
  
He offered the knife to Masego, who took it and looked down at it. His blindfold pointed straight down at the knife.  
  
“It looks very impressive,” he said mildly.  
  
The man laughed, slapping his thigh. “Good one sir. But really, feel free to inspect it however you wish, our product is of such high quality it can withstand even the most punishing use. Knife sharpening, should you need, is only a small fee and guarantees you’ll always have a perfectly balanced, sharp blade in your kitchen.”  
  
“Withstand any use you say?” Masego asked in an amused tone.  
  
I folded my arms, standing back a bit and watching. Well, it would be a good learning opportunity for both of them. Masego had been warned about showing off magic here, so I wasn’t overly worried. Instead I took the opportunity to keep an eye on the two sets of muscle still watching us. If they were just unpowered security we were at little risk, except for possibly making a scene. I couldn’t rely on my sense for Named to work on the capes here, which made me uneasy. They didn’t wear masks, but only a fool would assume that every Hero or Villain here would follow the same traditions. Especially when breaking them would provide a significant advantage.  
  
“Absolutely. Now you must be wondering ‘Well that’s all great and dandy, but how does buying a set of knives make me money?’ and you’d be right! That’s only the first half. You buy a set of knives and then you go show them to friends, family, co-workers, whoever you want. For each set of knives you sell, you get a cut of the profits. If you get more people to sign up at CoCut, you can get a percentage of their sales as well. Obviously a clever man like yourself understands how advantageous this is for you!”  
  
Masego was still spinning the knife between his fingers, running a finger along the edge experimentally. “You are proposing an initial investment with increasing returns the more we can spread said investment.”  
  
“Exaaaaactly! The more knives you sell, the more people you recruit, the more money you make. Why, you can work from home, set your own schedule. It’s the perfect gig for the modern economy,” the man said with a wide smile.  
  
No, the sense of unease I had wasn’t emanating from those two men. They were certainly watching us, but they weren’t what was bothering me. I wove a small bit of Winter into my eyes, searching the crowd that meandered along the Boardwalk more carefully.  
  
“This sounds inherently unsustainable, as the larger it gets, the lower the profit margin becomes for new members until the system collapses under its own weight,” he answered, staring directly at the man through his blindfold.  
  
The man, to his credit, didn’t falter. “You might think so, but actually if you’ll look at this chart we have, you can see that as the size of the base increases, so does the overall profit. So while the percentage gets ever so slightly smaller, the absolute profit increases, so everyone actually makes more money.”  
  
Masego furrowed his brow, “That is proposing an unlimited source of income, which is impossible in a finite economy. Where does the continued income come from? Surely your economics must account for this, or is there unlimited resources here?”  
  
The man laughed again and I was actually starting to get annoyed at that laugh. “Oh of course not. I see you’re a sharp one. Well I’d ask you in return: what does it matter? As long as you get your cut and come out with a fat stack of cash, does it need to last forever? Nothing does after all. We almost fell apart after Leviathan and let me tell you, I for one am not content to just go on as before. You and me, we deserve some cold hard cash and some relaxation, you know?”  
  
Masego turned to me. “Catherine, I assume it would be inadvisable for us to crash the local economy during our trip?”  
  
“That’s right Zeze,” I said, still looking around. “No messing with the economy and no...whatever kind of scam this is. I’ll have to make a note of it though, Ratface would love it.”  
  
The man had grown notably paler as I spoke, still smiling widely though. I finally found what I wanted. A woman, dressed in an outfit similar to mine, but with different insignia, watching us from a side path. She was notably better at shadowing us than the two men who had caught my eye initially.  
  
“I assure you, we aren’t looking to affect the whole economy. All that we’re doing here is making a nice, tidy profit for our members-”  
  
I cut him off, extending my hand. “Hey can I see that knife?”  
  
Masego chimed in, “I would warn you it has a high percentage of impurities and is rather brittle.”  
  
The man hesitated a second before handing me one of the knives. I made a show of examining it. I actually did get a decent glimpse of it, and while it was different from the kind of steel I was used to, I could see Masego was right. It did feel rather brittle.  
  
The woman who had been watching us had ducked away a second ago. I had my suspicions that she had only left because whoever she had been waiting on had appeared. My suspicions were quickly confirmed as a woman approached us, cutting through the crowd like a scythe. People were rapidly leaving the area around her, the Boardwalk quickly thinning out. _Now that’s a bad sign._ She was tall, far taller than I was, with a long neck and a nearly regal bearing. Her clothing was some sort of warrior’s garb, with decorative armor made of what looked like bone and a necklace of what looked like teeth._ And isn’t that just lovely._  
  
I cocked my head to the side as she made a beeline for us. This had the shape of a story forming around it. We were outsiders and she was clearly in control. Approaching us, probably to scold our impertinence. I shook my head a little, reminding myself I couldn’t rely on stories here.  
  
“You’re either new or stupid. Get off my turf and tell whatever idiot in the Gesellschaft that sent you that Brockton Bay is returned to its rightful rulers,” she said as her opening, a feral grin on her visage.  
  
I was obviously missing some context for this conversation, so I did as usual and bluffed.  
  
“As far as I was aware the-” I had to think quickly of the name “-Protectors were in charge of this city.”  
  
The woman folded her arms. “The Protectorate? I knew those fools in the Empire were desperate. Not just colored capes, but stupid ones at that.”  
  
I shrugged, ignoring all the parts I didn’t understand. “You didn’t deny it.”  
  
The woman looked down her nose at me in a way that suddenly reminded me of Akua. If we needed to fight her, I was getting comfortable with the idea real quick. “They will fall. The Undersiders have retreated. Last chance. Leave.”  
  
I still had the knife in one hand, pretending to inspect it. Forcing a fight here wasn’t really to our advantage. On the other hand, we had to stay in decent proximity to the portal. If this Villain controlled that area, we were bound to clash with her sooner or later. I hated going into fights unprepared though.  
  
A crash came from perpendicular to both us, further down the Boardwalk. A large area around us had been cleared out and at some point the man who had tried to sell us some weird knife scheme had slipped away. However further down there were still people skittering off and a pair of large beasts was bounding through them, causing chaos. All three of us stared as the beasts came to a halt, a pair of riders on each beast. One bore a woman in a purple and black garb that clung tightly to her skin and behind her was an exhausted looking man in an outfit reminiscent of a large cat, gold in color. The other beast bore a normal looking butch woman and a man in all black with an oddly smooth helmet covering his entire head.  
  
“Haha, found you!” the woman in purple exclaimed, pointing at me with triumph.  
  
“You,” growled the tall woman who had been threatening us.  
  
“Oh. _You_,” said the woman in purple.  
  
“Tattletale?” asked the man in gold.  
  
“Tattletale,” said the tall woman.  
  
“Butcher,” replied Tattletale.  
  
“Tattletale…” groaned the helmeted man, leaning on in his seat to look.  
  
“Squire?” asked the man in gold, looking at me.  
  
“Tattletale?” I offered, unwilling to be the one who broke the moment.  
  
All eyes were on Tattletale now.  
  
“Ah...fahck,” she said, nudging her beast back a bit with her feet. The dog-like creature took a few steps back slowly. The riders were looking rather nervous now, with the exception of the butch woman who just looked annoyed.  
  
Masego nudged me, leaning in to whisper, “I may have to reconsider my theory on dimensional mixing. This is very much something I’d expect from you at home.”  
  
I sighed at that. “Thanks Zeze.”  
  
The woman, the Butcher I now knew, cracked her knuckles and brought her hand up to her mouth, blowing a shrill, sharp whistle. That was an ominous name. I knew that names were chosen here, rather than grooves in reality, so to choose such a name she had must’ve willingly embraced carnage. Even without the grooves of a Story here, I could still feel a shape to things and so I knew what I had to do.  
  
I rolled my shoulders and lunged for the Butcher, arms wide and shoulders low to take her off her feet, only to catch air. I landed, skidding back as I put a hand down to stabilize myself. The Butcher disappeared, reappearing behind the beasts with an explosion of flame and grappling one. Tattletale and the golden man rolled off the top, diving to the side as she did. The other beast rounded on the Butcher, massive maw trying to clamp down on her as she stepped to the side, throwing a punch into the beast’s face in return.  
  
The man in gold had rolled to the side and bounced up to his feet, shouting with a magic enhanced voice that sent both the Butcher and the other team stumbling. I turned, seeing that the reinforcements she had whistled for were coming. A wall of human flesh was rushing us, all identical faces, from behind.  
  
“Masego! Handle it,” I called out, returning my focus to the Butcher. She was the leader from the way she acted and seemed the most dangerous one here by far. I’d let Masego deal with whatever craziness was going on behind us.  
  
She disappeared again, re-appearing further down the Boardwalk where she was taking some large metal rods off her back and assembling them into what I could only surmise was a ridiculously large longbow. I groaned. No one with a Name used a weapon that flashy without the power to back it up. That thing could probably punch straight through a line of tower shields. Clearly I couldn’t let her fire it.  
  
Forming a wall of ice between us and the Butcher, I cut off her line of sight. She teleported to the rooftop adjacent to us, the burst of fire making it easy to track her at least. I saw the wall of bodies crash against a ward that Masego had erected, blocking off that side of the Boardwalk. Tattletale and her team were quickly being covered in black smoke, obscuring their position. I raised a platform of ice, dashing towards the Butcher before she could draw that massive bow.  
  
She would’ve gotten a shot off anyway, had not the golden clad man aimed another shout at her, making her brace against it. I reached the roof, throwing the knife straight for her as I charged, a set of plate and a sword forming out of my ice. The Butcher dodged the knife with ease and knelt, touching the roof and pulling a large cudgel from it as she reformed the material. I ducked under the swing, slashing my blade towards her legs, only for her to teleport behind me. The explosion sending me staggering forward, ice melting and reforming as I repaired my armor.  
__  
Gods, how many different powers does she have?  
  
I knew from our talks with Skitter that her people didn’t have aspects. Most aspects were limited, usually to one use a day, or some other important number. Generally, weaker aspects could be invoked more, while stronger aspects were more limited. Some reset with the change of day into night, or when a condition related to the Named was fulfilled. The capes here didn’t have that, which meant if I broke out my aspects early, much like in a Named fight, I’d likely lose.  
  
I barely avoided the cudgel crashing down on the rooftop besides me, creating ice around us to hem the Butcher in. Not enough to get her to teleport, which she seemed given to do whenever disadvantaged, but enough to make her have to think about her movements. My stolen mantle and control over Winter was the only thing keeping this fight even. I stabbed at her chest twice in quick succession, slipping past her guard. The first she dodged with a quick backstep, the second was too shallow and the sword failed to pierce her flesh.  
  
I stepped forward, trying to press the attack, and was met with a rolling wave of pain down my body. Even though my body wasn’t strictly mortal anymore, given what the King of Winter had done to it, it still worked to make me pause. The cudgel crashed into my side with unnatural speed and I rolled across the roof, nearly falling off the edge._ Yeah those ribs are probably cracked._ I was really regretting having run out of Rise now that I didn’t have a quick way to heal. The follow up attack I was expecting never came, instead an increasingly harsh buzz filled the air. Like the sound of a thousand locusts all in time, I saw some sort of flying contraption hovering in the air above us.  
  
“This is the PRT. You are all under arrest,” a voice announced loudly, coming from the thing above.  
  
  



	36. 3.9 - Taylor

### 3.9 - Taylor

  
“Hey ducklings, I’m back. Who wants corn dogs?”  
\- Hye, The Ranger, Lady of the Lake  
  
  
“And?” I asked, my swarm voice buzzing around the collection of goblins.  
  
They were all watching the Praesi mage, the ones that had survived, as he treated Robber. Borer was polishing his blade and silently staring the mage down. The others were playing with their knives and positioned so there was no way he could watch all of them at the same time.  
  
Robber himself was much more cavalier. “Feel fit as an orc pit fighter. You sure there’s no one left to stab?”  
  
One of the other goblins, Itcher, walked over and gave him a look over before very deliberately sheathing her blade and grumbling. The mage, Akuretso, simply gave a tight smile in return and stepped back, taking a seat on one of the few unbroken chairs left in this section of the keep.  
  
“Just the zombies, and frankly that problem is about to be taken care of either way,” I answered, acutely aware that we were picking up speed. The winds outside the keep had grown increasingly fierce as our descent continued, threatening to knock over the unprepared and whipping debris across the grounds. I was moving as many of my spiders into the keep as I could manage, but I needed to keep a fair number outside to prevent the undead from rushing us. The brutalized defenses of the keep were ineffective at keeping them out, most of the wards consumed in goblin fire. Said fire was still raging along the western wall and I was going to just avoid that area.  
  
Akuretso looked up from his seat, directing his gaze to the nearest giant spider. “Would you like me to go assist with the magecraft? I doubt Fasili would sabotage the effort, but I would caution that he is a crafty one.”  
  
“I have him under control, but if you think you can help keep us from crashing, get moving. I’ll have some bugs lead the way,” I replied.  
  
I was keeping an eye on the rest of the Praesi mages through the several dozen giant and not so giant spiders I had sent along with them. Initially they had split into three groups, going for the parts of the keep that each respective group had either been given access to or stolen it. Only two of the groups had found anything useful from my understanding, so the third had been divided up to the other two. One group were mostly working on providing the power necessary to slow our descent, though our slowly increasing speed meant that was a stopgap measure. The other was Fasili’s group, which had gotten access to one of Akua’s main ward control centers.  
  
I formed a swarm next to Fasili, speaking through it, “How’s it going?”  
  
The man had sweat beading on his brow and a look of pained concentration. “It would be easier had you left Lady Akua alive. Usurping the control schema will take no small amount of time.”  
  
“Do we have that much time?” I asked more pointedly.  
  
He shook his head. “We do not. I estimate we only have another few scant minutes before gravity overwhelms the reserves of the auxiliary group and we begin dropping at full speed.”  
  
Akuretso was following my bugs on his way to Fasili’s group, but I doubted a single mage, even if talented, would be able to make the breakthrough we needed in such a short time. Checking on the other group showed that the mages there were hardly doing any better. Most of them looked ready to collapse, arms trembling as they worked some sort of ritual magic to direct the effort through one of them at a time, as I understood it.  
  
“What have you gotten access to then?” I asked Fasili.  
  
His eye twitched in what I assumed was annoyance, but he answered calmly, “We have some degree of control over direction, we have the power schema, though that’s too broken to make good use of. Some of the outer and inner defense wards for this section, local scrying.”  
  
I wasn’t entirely sure I believed him, but I had no understanding of the magic they used here. He hadn’t had long to work, so I was hoping he was too pressed to be trying to pull one over on me.  
  
“That won’t be enough,” I said.  
  
Fasili rolled his eyes. “We are aware of that already. Is there anything your Name can do to help here or is it just good for killing the people who could’ve stopped this?”  
  
“Mostly just that, unless you can fuel this thing off giant spiders,” I replied, letting his attitude pass for the moment.  
  
“While ritual sacrifice would work, we don’t have enough time to prepare it. Do you still have Lady Akua’s body? She had a necklace that she guarded closely. If it’s still intact, we may be able to use it to bypass the traps she wove in.”  
  
Now wasn’t that interesting? That sounded like something he would’ve brought up earlier if it was that useful. I couldn’t be sure, but I suspected this was his angle to get something out of this.  
  
“Hustler, Borer, secure Akua’s body,” I ordered from a separate swarm to the two goblins who seemed to be in the best shape still.  
  
They gave a sharp salute and hurried off, leaving Robber and Itcher in the guest room we had appropriated for his recovery. Robber was poking experimentally at the translucent skin that had grown to cover his wounds.  
  
“I’ll have to check. You said you can scry from there?” I asked.  
  
Fasili nodded, the sweat dripping down his neck. Even with how much he had kept his appearance together he was starting to fall apart. An outfit could only take so much sweat and blood and spider gore before it got disgusting. His regal looking vest and shirt, which vaguely reminded me of Regent’s costume, were hanging off him at this point.  
  
“Only locally. What do you want to see?” He started the process, the stone in the center of the array rippling as an image began to form.  
  
“Beneath us, I want to see how close we are and what’s around.”  
  
He gestured to Akuretso, who had just arrived. “Handle the scrying, I need to focus on maintaining control.”  
  
The mage hurried over to the circle of mages, evidently doing something that resulted in handing off control of the scrying to him. The rippling unformed image on the stone blurring and twisting as control was passed.  
  
Truthfully I was running low on ideas. If the mages couldn’t do something to prevent us from hitting at full speed, we’d be leveling a portion of whatever was underneath us. At the least I could try to steer us away from any settlements, but that was a small consolation.  
  
Akuretso was bent over the image, talking quickly as he worked. “The image is poor, this setup was never intended to be used this way. I can see a large forest beneath us, some small mountains, and I think that’s a lake to the south.”  
  
Well at least we weren’t going to drop on Ater and cause some sort of local apocalypse. But where could we land? A forest was a crap place to land. The only idea I had came from the rare times a plane had to make an emergency landing on the news. They went either for fields or, even better, water landings. But this wasn’t a plane we could glide down. A field would just become a crater and at this speed water might as well be concrete.  
  
There had to be a solution here, but the laws of physics were what they were.  
  
Wait. No, I was going about this all wrong. The laws of physics weren’t all powerful here. Something trumped even them. Stories.  
  
I needed a story that ended up with us surviving the landing. All of us. A story where a girl, after killing an evil witch, has to land the magic castle full of hostages safely. That was a heroic story if it worked, or a tragic story of self sacrifice if it failed. I had to make this a heroic story somehow…  
  
Fasili spoke, “We run short on time, did you find the necklace?”  
  
I checked on Borer and Hustler, having sent some bugs along with them. Surely enough there was a silver cylinder around the Diabolist’s freshly slit throat. Covered in still wet blood, it hadn’t stood out to me among the rest of her jewelry. Perhaps that had been the point.  
  
“I have,” I replied, not even lying. “What now?”  
  
Fasili stepped out of the circle of mages, gesturing hastily towards a hallway that lead deeper into the keep. He began to jog, which given his focus on composure made me think he was actually worried.  
  
“We must make haste. Bring me the necklace and I may be able to enter her inner sanctum. The sorcery there should be sufficient to land the city safely.”  
  
Directing my bugs to lead Borer and Hustler towards the place Fasili was headed. I alerted Robber and Itcher as well, just in case. I didn’t want to risk them any further, but if there was a pivot in the story around this city, it’d happen here. All the pieces were coming together and the shifty underling was leading us along on a merry chase. As Robber and Itcher met up with the other goblins I formed my swarm above them.  
  
“Fasili is making some kind of play, make sure he doesn’t get away with the necklace,” I said, the harsh buzzing hopefully conveying my seriousness.  
  
Robber simply cackled. “I thought keeping what High Lords want away from them was just our standard operating protocol.”  
  
“Technically there is no standard operating protocol for them,” Borer added. “However, Lord Black made it clear that campaign accidents around them would go uninvestigated.”  
  
I interrupted before the banter could start off, “I need some input. I don’t know stories like your Squire does. Is there anything that comes to mind for crashing a flying fortress?”  
  
“Triumphant and everyone dying,” Robber helpfully supplied.  
  
“Aye, usually everyone dying and the Heroes surviving through some bullshit,” added Hustler.  
  
We were nearly to the spot Fasili impatiently waiting at, his foot tapping on the stone rapidly. The door to the inner sanctum that looked to be, from the way the entrance was built, an inner courtyard of some kind. The door itself was covered in runes that even I recognized as dangerous and humming with power.  
  
“What about a story where everyone survives? It’d have to be something heroic, right?” I asked quickly, before we got into Fasili’s hearing range.  
  
The goblins looked to each other as they ran, grimacing. Robber was the one to answer. “Problem is, we don’t have any Heroes here. Good ol’ devil tits is dead and you ain’t exactly flying a flag of a Choir on those spiders.”  
  
He was right, damn it. I wasn’t even sure I could use Stories the same way Squire did. I didn’t have the intuitive grasp of how this world worked or the cultural background to understand what cards I could play. Some stories were complete nonsense in another culture and I was relying on my decent, but uneven, childhood reading to go off of.  
  
I spoke, frustrated, “We killed the villain and saved...some of the city’s people. Could we shape that into something?”  
  
“That’s a tall order. Something big like that. I dunno, probably needs to be a heroic sacrifice. They seem to love doing that bit, looking all self important,” Robber offered with some hesitation before the biting snark came back.  
  
I cut our conversation short as the group approached Fasili’s waiting place. The goblins slowed, eying the arrays surrounding the entrance warily. Fasili frowned in disgust at the sight of them, quick to cover up the expression but not the displeasure in his eyes. He really was playing the evil, backstabbing underling role well. From the stories I remembered that could go one of two ways. He would be screwed by his own arrogance or he’d end up being an even worse threat than the original villain.  
  
I added a few more small spiders to his clothes from behind while he was distracted. I had a few on every mage I’d let free, as far from trusting them as I was. If I needed to, I could put him down in short order and ensure that the second option didn’t come to pass.  
  
Fasili looked to us, drenched in sweat. “The necklace?”  
  
“Give it to him,” I ordered, my mental finger on a hair trigger.  
  
Borer handed the necklace over to him. Fasili turned, gesturing at the thick door that blocked off the courtyard ahead of us. The runes covering the door came alight, warping the air around them and leaving odd double and triple images where I tried to look at them. Fasili held the cylinder up to the center of the door and spoke without speaking. The runes pulsed in unison and dimmed, the door swinging open slowly.  
  
“That’s kinda creepy,” Itcher commented.  
  
“Come, quickly. We are nearly out of time,” Fasili said, quickly stepping through the door and into the courtyard.  
  
The inner courtyard sported what once must’ve been a rather lavish garden. The walls now were covered in runes, strange magical machinery in the center of it all. Above us was a massive sphere, it’s surface a strange mixture of blacks and blues, roiling angrily almost like the surface of a miniature sun. My bugs felt no heat, but I was wary of anything that looked so obviously ominous.  
  
Fasili jogged to the pedestal that sat at the center of courtyard and we followed. Brushing his outfit out, he took a deep breath and scanned the equipment before him.  
  
Muttering, he spoke, “Oh Lady Akua, how clever. A few more weeks and the sheer magnificence of your work would’ve killed them all.”  
  
I buzzed in his ear, “Less evil, more saving us all.”  
  
“Yeah you can jack off over the evil magic doomsday looking thingy later,” Robber helpfully added.  
  
Fasili rolled his eyes. “We should have more than enough power to restore flight, albeit at the cost of some of the finest sorcery of the era.”  
  
He raised a hand, reaching forward and pressing one of the many runes arrayed in almost keyboard like fashion around the pedestal.  
  
“Like so,” he said.  
  
He was thrown bodily to the side by an unseen force and panels of light shot up around him, forming a hexagonal prison.  
  
A chiding voice came from the runes, “Fasili, Fasili. I knew you’d sneak in here someday. Now be a dear and sit tight, I’ll be by to collect you when convenient.”  
  
Fasili raised a hand, touching the transparent walls of his prison experimentally. He opened his mouth, speaking, but we could hear nothing from outside. A flicker of magic came out of his hand, testing the prison and an arc of blue lightning flicked back, coursing through him. He recoiled, keeping his instance in the small space he was given.  
  
“Well fuck me sideways and call me Levantine,” Hustler said, hands on her hips.  
  
“You know as much as I love your fantasies I can’t get caught fraternizing with the troops again,” Robber said with a wicked smirk.  
  
Hustler shot him a look. “Permission to pour acid down my ears so I can wipe that image from my brain Special Tribune?”  
  
“Permission denied,” Robber replied sternly.  
  
“Focus,” I ordered. “Fasili is down, we need to change plans. Ideas?”  
  
The goblins looked at each other. A few grimaces resulted from whatever silent communication resulted. Robber slapped Borer on the shoulder and Borer snapped off a salute towards the nearest spider.  
  
“Doing what I can boss.”  
  
He scurried towards the central pedestal and I found myself confused. The goblins had just traded looks like they expected something bad to happen. That was a bit of a given, since we were about to crash, but this felt different. I was missing something here. Why Borer? What could he do that the others couldn’t?  
  
Borer wiped some of the blood of his hands and an image snapped into my mind. Borer, standing on the dead body of the Diabolist, with that quiet and slightly smug look. Borer had killed the Villain. I wasn’t the one who could make the heroic sacrifice here.  
  
He was.  
  
My real body broke into a run, heading for the courtyard even as my spiders surged forward. Robber blocked the way, knife spinning between his fingers before coming to a rest.  
  
“Sorry boss, but there’s no other choice. We gotta keep you safe and this is what goblins do.”  
  
Hustler and Itcher had formed up to his sides and my insects surged forward. My swarm voice buzzing out an order for Borer to stop that I knew would go unheeded. The goblins had no hesitation, knives biting into my swarm. Delaying me just enough that Borer sprinted and slid onto the pedestal. Small gray-green claws slamming down on the same rune Fasili had tried before.  
  
The arrays around Borer came to life and the small goblin arced back, painfully stretched out. His claws still grabbing the control rune. The normally invisible flow of magic shining dimly, black and silver tendrils coalescing around him as his clothing started to smoke and smoulder. I recognized the story now. Borer was the Hero here, trying to control evil magic beyond his comprehension, willing to sacrifice himself to use it to save us. The magic would consume him as he tried to control it, letting him live just long enough to save us all. But there was another pattern that this story could follow.  
  
I sprinted, panting as I made for the courtyard.  
  
My bugs would simply fry if they approached him now. The first few that made it past the trio of goblins did just that, but I had to be certain. My swarm backed off and the three goblins did in turn, looking over at Borer with tight lips and clenched fists. Borer was smoking, his clothes falling apart except for a tactical bit of his loincloth. His skin was what was burning now, uneven black splotches spreading across his flesh as the magic filled his body.  
  
I burst through the door, sprinting into the courtyard and straight for Borer. I only had a short window to make this work.  
  
My swarm back with the mages buzzed an order to them, “Redirect the scrying to the inner courtyard.”  
  
Robber and the others looked surprised as I dashed across the room for Borer and as I made a sliding dive towards the pedestal, I saw a small smile flash across Robber’s face. One hand joined Borer’s over the control rune and the other wrapped around the small goblin. Power surged into me from both and I felt every inch of my body suddenly burn. Like Lung’s flames, the magic washed over me, burning me. The magical arrays felt like a giant building with a thousand rooms, each with a specific purpose and function that I didn’t quite grasp. I could feel Borer’s will inside them, trying to redirect the power that the arrays held into the damaged flight systems.  
  
I only understood what he was doing because of the violent rocking of the city as the magic arrays in charge of the flight were hooked up haphazardly to others. Borer was methodically trying each room, trying to connect it to the flying arrays before moving on. I tried to shout out to him, but found myself without a voice. I was brimming with magical energy that I hadn’t the faintest idea how to direct.  
  
The voice of Akuretso filled my mind as another, much smaller set of rooms appeared. “Scrying array connected and gods below! You’ve got to stop, you’re no mage, you can’t handle an energy field that powerful!”  
  
The image of the forest below us was much closer this time; Liesse was falling rapidly, it’s shadow zipping across the landscape. I could count the trees if I had the time and lack of immediate death to distract me. The slopes of the small mountains were angled towards a valley at the end of which was a large lake. I tried again to say something but nothing happened. All I was doing at the moment was splitting the load with Borer.  
  
“Let go! Your body will be burnt to a cinder!” the mage cried.  
  
I tried to reply, thinking strongly of the lake ahead of us. That must’ve been along the right track because Akuretso reacted with a sound like he’d heard me.  
  
“The lake, of course! I can tell you how to alter the damaged flight array to do it, but I don’t have access from here. You’ll have to do it.”  
  
I thought strongly of Borer, sending the thought out towards him. I felt his mind turn towards mine and flicker in recognition. Another thought, this time of the runic schematic Akuretso was trying to send to us. Borer picked up my meaning, sending back a simple thought: understood and obeyed.  
  
As the sketch was drawn out for us Borer began to connect the rooms in different configurations, dragging tendrils of magic from one to another at breakneck pace. The scrying image showed the ground coming closer beneath us at a frightening speed.  
  
“You’re picking up the basics marvelously quickly I have to say. Right, the instant the goblin is done, you’ll need to shunt as much power as you can into it. The array will likely explode, but frankly, it’s either that or us,” he said, his voice clipping as he hurriedly walked us through it.  
  
I could see our shadow getting closer as the ground did and I sent the thought of hurry out into the magical space our minds were roughly navigating. Borer was working as fast as he could, but I could tell from looking at the ground versus his progress we weren’t going to make it. Borer seemed to have the same idea and grabbed the part of the array that lead to the ominous orb of power above us, throwing it to me.  
  
“Wait!”  
  
I plugged it into the half finished array and felt a distant sensation of heat. The connection warbled and shook, starting to come loose immediately. I tried focusing on it and found that it slipped from my mental grasp again. The bottom of Liesse was clipping the tops of trees off as we approached the ground, well short of the lake and coming far too fast.  
  
I grabbed the connection again, Borer coming to help steady it, and together we just barely held it in place. Liesse began to break apart, rocks falling off the underside as the city sputtered and shook. Its crash momentarily delayed as it maintained height, clipping the tree tops and toppling a swath of the forest. Together we held the magic in place, just enough that the city’s descent had slowed to inches per second instead of dozens of feet. I could see the lake just ahead of us, a few hundred more feet was all we needed.  
  
The city crashed into the beach, carving a great rivet in it as it continued its forward path, massive waves rippling outwards as the bottom of Liesse hit the water running. The foundations of the ruined city sunk into the lake as it slowed, water surging and washing over the once great walls. It came to a rest at the center of the lake, the bottom of Liesse having met the bottom of the lake, and the city halted, tilting slightly forward. Water was flooding the streets, some completely submerged, some barely touched, many half filled with water seeping into the low places. Parts of the city were fractured, great cracks splitting across streets, some smaller portions sitting almost entirely disconnected around the center.  
  
The smell of breakfast roused me from watching Liesse settle, bringing back my focus and..._was I burning?_  
  



	37. 4.0a - Agent Lassiter

### 4.0a - Agent Lassiter

  
“Among the various gangs that troubled North America, few were worthy of note in the long run and those that were fell into two categories. The first was gangs that were an institution. The Slaughterhouse 9, naturally. The Fallen, as one of the largest and most resilient to form. The Elite, for their ability to blend non-cape assets with cape based crime. The second was gangs defined by a single member, someone who simply was never able to be stopped. The most prominent example of this was the Teeth, with their infinitely resurrecting leader, the Butcher.”  
-Excerpts from the Collected Memos of a Robert Winston, former PRT Tactical Analyst.  
  
  
Agent Lassiter crouched on the rooftop, signaling to his squad to stay low. The rooftop across from theirs was covered in a helter skelter battlefield of ice. The unknown cape, current designation Squire had just been thrown off the rooftop by the Butcher, the fight descending back onto the Boardwalk. Lassiter moved up to the edge of the rooftop, his squad following closely behind.  
  
What an absolute shitshow he thought. The Boardwalk was one of the few areas of the city that had been well on its way to recovering from Leviathan. Business investments and outside capital had spurred reconstruction and kept at least this part of the city fairly decent. Now there were over half a dozen capes fighting across a quarter kilometer of it, swaths of damage rapidly expanding as the fight between the newcomers, the Undersiders, the Teeth, and now the PRT and Protectorate spread out.  
  
_Hell they even blew out the windows of my favorite pastry shop._  
  
He stifled a groan as he thought about how much work this would add on top of what had happened yesterday. And all the damage and injuries too, he supposed. They couldn’t have even put him on strike duty. No, he got stuck with rescue and recovery. Getting to shoot something would’ve made things a little better at least.  
  
From what he could see, the fighting was away from this block of shops for now. With no better time than the present he backed away from the edge and moved towards the rooftop entrance.  
  
“Coast is clear for the moment, clear the building,” he ordered. It didn’t need to be said that they were to report any combatant sightings.  
  
Frank and Carrie entered, clearing the hallway that lead to the rooftop and his squad filed down. Everyone paired off, moving to clear the side rooms in quick order. This was a simple three story building with some offices above a Boardwalk facing shop. Dozens of buildings just like it dotted the Boardwalk and each one likely had people in it. They needed to be evacuated ASAP, given the Teeth’s tendency towards collateral damage.  
  
“Sir, you can’t bring that with you, I’m sorry. Come quickly with me now.” He heard from behind him as one of the team found someone already.  
  
He nodded to his partner, Shawn, as they moved on ahead. Likely nearly every room in this building would have people in it. His squad knew how to handle that, they’d have the building clear in a matter of minutes. Rescue and recovery wasn’t what he preferred to be on, but like hell if his squad would be any less than perfect at it. He was headed down to the street level shop where the damage was worst and the risk of parahuman involvement was highest.  
  
They took the stairs down, taking two steps at a time. Heads peeked out of office doors on the second floor and Shawn stepped to the side, gesturing up the stairs and behind him.  
  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we need you to evacuate the building. There’s a squad of PRT officers up these stairs who will escort you to an emergency exit and safe site. Do not bring anything with you and remain calm please.”  
  
Even as Shawn wrapped up his quick directions, Lassiter was already taking the stairs down to the next floor. The stairs were the kind that wrapped around a thin central space, forming two flights. He heard footsteps rushing up towards him. Probably the folks below had heard Shawn’s voice and were coming up. It carried pretty well. He always had to yell to get the same kind of reach, which made him sound angry. Shawn just had that natural charisma. It was why he handled the questions that usually annoyed Lassiter, which to be honest, was most of them. Inevitably someone would ask why they were heading up to evacuate rather than down and Shawn gracefully step in to field that.  
  
He kept his rifle pointed down, though his arms tensed slightly as he turned the corner. A flustered looking young woman dressed in a green apron over a white blouse and jeans stumbled as she saw him. Losing her footing she started to slip backwards on the stairs and he let the rifle drop, the strap keeping it from falling to the floor, his hand darting out to grab her arm.  
  
“Oh! Thank you-” she started.  
  
“Third floor, quickly as you can now,” he stated, stepping to her side and moving past her.  
  
The woman stammered something as he hit the bottom of the stairs, scanning the shop for any sign of danger. Two of the large glass windows had been smashed, glass covering the interior of the shop. A few displays had been messed up, but it was otherwise essentially intact. The shop had gotten off light. Insurance would cover the windows and they’d be re-opening by tomorrow morning. Maybe even tonight if they could arrest these fucking clowns wrecking one of the few profitable parts of the city left.  
  
He jogged to the front of the shop, peering around the corner of one of the broken windows as glass crunched under his boots. Better to check out the broken window than one that might get shattered in his face. He heard Shawn taking the stairs down, ready to cover him if he needed it. Looking out the window revealed that the fighting was still a few shops down the Boardwalk. It was a good time to move out and scout the shop next door, closer to the fighting. The cops were getting the outer perimeter clear, it was their job to clear the places that had a decent chance of still getting blown up or caught in some Shaker effect.  
  
He pressed the button on his collar, turning the microphone on. Speaking into it, “Lassiter, ground floor looks clear. Moving to scout out”- he looked out the window for the name -”Maryll’s Magical Emporium.”  
  
“Copy that. We’ll have the civvies evacuated and be down in four,” Carrie replied over his headset.  
  
Four minute turn around on finishing clearing the building and being in position to support him and Shawn. Rescue might be frustrating, but having the well oiled machine that was his team at his back really made it better. He gave a hand signal to Shawn and they stepped through the broken window, keeping close to the wall and underneath the somewhat shredded awnings. It wasn’t exactly cover, but given the scope of the battle going on, not much was.  
  
At that exact moment he saw a ball of blood forming above a mass of dead Spree clones, the black cape designated Heirophant apparently using some sort of biokinesis to duel with Hemorrhagia. He ducked inside quickly, Shawn following just behind him. Both of them had a good sense for shit going sideways and a building was better than nothing.  
  
A shrill voice filled their ears as they entered. “Oh no you don’t! That nice young fellow just protected my shop, I won’t have you two bringing more hell over here!”  
  
Lassiter turned to the source of the voice, getting a broom straight into his helmet. It didn’t hurt, but it was certainly obscuring his vision and shit like this was exactly why he didn’t like rescue duty.  
  
“Ma’am, ma’am! Ma’am! Stop that-! You have to leave-” He raised his hands, shielding himself as the broom came back around.  
  
“I’m not leaving! Get out of here, you’re messing up the feng shui!”  
  
“Ma’am, it’s not safe-” he insisted, the broom smacking against his armored forearms.  
  
“It’ll be safer once you get out and stop throwing off my defensive wards!” she yelled, the broom relenting for a moment.  
  
“Look we can’t let you stay here while there’s an active fight not a hundred fee-eugh!” he sputtered, the smell of whatever it was she had just tossed at him sending him stepping back and bumping against Shawn, who was also retreating back out the door.  
  
_No funding for every squad to get gas masks my ass._  
  
A vial of something equally foul smelling smashed against his visor as he backed out of the shop. He fucking hated rescue duty. He waved his arms, trying to dissipate the smell as another jar hit him. He turned around and stepped away, breaking line of sight with the doorway.  
  
“Some lady, huh?” Shawn said cheekily.  
  
“Fuck it, let’s leave her. She knows the risks,” he replied, grumbling.  
  
As he turned around he saw the sphere of blood burst, tendrils of blood meeting other blood. Some sort of Shaker fight going down. Then one of the tendrils of blood swept up from underneath the Boardwalk and Hemorrhagia went flying. Shawn dove for cover and Lassiter put his arms up to shield himself, recognizing that she was flying straight for him and he only had a second to act.  
  
Hemorrhagia crashed into an invisible barrier just above his hands, face distorted and smushed up against the transparent surface. Lassiter winced as he saw two of her teeth were bent out of place and watched in horrified fascination as she slowly slid down the invisible surface and crumpled at his feet.  
  
_Shit, the old bitch actually has a forcefield._  
  
“Lassie! You alright man?” Shawn said, raising his voice a bit.  
  
He looked over slowly to Shawn, taking a second before he nodded.  
  
“Yeah...yeah I’m fine. Let’s foam her before she wakes up,” he suggested slightly belatedly.  
  
Shawn gave him a quick nod, pulling out a containment foam grenade. He stepped forward, gingerly testing the place Hemorrhagia had hit the barrier with the toe of his foot. Finding no resistance, he kneeled down and pulled the pin, placing the grenade right on top of her crumpled form. The both of them jogged back and a few seconds later the grenade activated, covering the fallen member of the Teeth in containment foam.  
  
Lassiter stood with his arms folded, still processing what had just happened. That crazy old lady hadn’t been lying, there was an actual shield around her shop. A selective one at that. She clearly wasn’t a cape, that crappy magic shop had been a touristy eyesore on the Boardwalk for two decades. No, that meant someone had used their power to protect her shop. One of the two new capes? She had said a young man, and only one of them was that. But when, how, and why had that happened?  
  
He was broken from his thoughts as Shawn clapped him on the back. “Lassie! I’ll hate to see you go, but that was a hell of a thing to do.”  
  
“Do? What’d I do?” he asked, shaking his head.  
  
“Triggering! You put your hands up and stopped Hemorrhagia dead mid-flight! Good damn timing on that too,” he said with a relieved laugh.  
  
“I didn’t trigger, the old lady…” Lassiter started, fumbling.  
  
“No more rescue duty for you. You’ll finally get to work that grudge out on some of these bozo villains,” Shawn continued, rolling right over him in his excitement.  
  
No more rescue duty though...He couldn’t...Could he?  
  
“Weeeeeell….” he said, trying to think as he drew the syllable out.  
  
He’d finally be in the action. Stopping Villains. Except for the fact he didn’t actually have powers...  
  
“And you can scale down on carrying so many guns. I didn’t want to say anything before, but you were kinda freaking everyone out. We’re constantly finding holdout pistols all over the place. I mean, why in the candy bowl?”  
  
“Hold up. There should always be a firearm within arm’s reach and the candy bowl is tactically positioned in the middle of the room. It’s the perfect spot for a hidden weapon. I don’t even see why that’s an issue,” he started, getting sidetracked.  
  
Shawn threw his hands up, “That’s besides the point! We gotta call this in Lassie. Congrats man.”  
  
Shawn looked at him with naked enthusiasm and he saw him touch his lapel at the same time his helmet buzzed with the sound of comms opening. He realized he had hesitated over the fantasy for a little too long, belatedly trying to gesture to Shawn to shut up.  
  
“Shawn here. Hemorrhagia down and contained with foam, thanks to Agent Lassiter.”  
  
He made a cutting motion across his throat and Shawn looked at him, confused. He frantically put his hand to his lapel, “Wait, it wasn’t-”  
  
“Frank here, we saw it all from the rooftop. Well done Lassiter.”  
  
“Nice catch Boss,” Carrie added.  
  
“Already called it into HQ. Lassiter you’re requested back ASAP, we’ll clear the rest. Director wants to see you as soon as this wraps up.”  
  
Lassiter swallowed heavily. Maybe he could still clear all this up. Fantasizing for a minute wasn’t a crime. They would understand it was all a mistake, right?  
  
  



	38. 4.0b - Tattletale

### 4.0b - Tattletale

  
  
“It’s simple. They’re swamp hags, so we drain the swamp and they’re powerless. Then with the new ground provided by the former swamp we can build luxury housing for the nobles. Two ugly birds with one pretty magical stone.”  
-Dread Emperor Malignant I  
  
  
Tattletale ducked, covering her head with one hand as she dove behind one of the large planters that held some decorative flowers and shrubs. Previously there had been trees in these spots, but the tidal surges that Leviathan had used to drown the city had taken all but the stoutest ones down. The city had brought in large concrete planters filled with cheap dirt and flowers to quickly and messily beautify the Boardwalk.  
  
She glanced over the top of the planter, taking stock of the situation. Hemorrhagia was currently tied up fighting that friend of the Squire. _Uses some form of energy manipulation. Energy manipulation not native to this dimension._ That was fantastic and useless at the moment. She discarded the line of thought, focusing elsewhere. Squire and Grue were currently keeping the Butcher at a stalemate, while Rachel was stuck trying to deal with Vex. Spree was being mopped up by Triumph after he had taken a beating. The PRT was surrounding them, troopers occupying the very edges of the battle zone.  
  
_Waiting for us to take each other out before coming in. Have cape support. Miss Militia and Assault likely still injured from last night. Sere and Dovetail should be en route. 4-8 minutes._  
  
That meant she needed to get the Undersiders and the Squire out of here before the Protectorate could close the noose around them. The real question was why the Protectorate was willing to commit so many resources to this fight when they still had yet to contain the Summer Queen. Tattletale shivered a bit at the memory of her. Her legs were still sore to the touch from the burns she had taken when the so called fairie had lost her patience.  
  
_Dovetail, Sere, and Triumph are the only ones on the roster not injured or elsewhere. Three capes won’t be able to contain all of us though, even if we do beat each other down. What are they planning? Supplementing with PRT troops?_  
  
She shouted out a warning to Grue, “Grue, she’s flanking your left!”  
  
Her power feeding her some idea of what the Butcher’s next move would be as she watched the fight. Grue spread darkness out to the side the Butcher was moving to flank him from, forcing her back. The Butcher was about to teleport to the side as the Squire came leaping up the side of the building, swinging a blade of ice for the leader of the Teeth once again. The Butcher was an immovable object, barely bothering to dodge as she used her Brute rating to soak glancing hits. Her fists swung out for the Squire, heavy, blocky blows that the small woman ducked and wove between. The Squire stumbled for a second, stabbing furiously and ineffectively at the Butcher before launching herself back with a block of ice.  
  
_Butcher nine, mindless rage. Squire recognized it quickly enough to throw herself out of range. Enhanced senses._  
  
Well she hardly needed her power to tell her that. The small woman was engaging in melee with the Butcher and coming out even. There was no way she had normal senses to be reacting at the speeds she was. Damn, she wished she had brought Parian and Foil for this. She had rushed to track down the Squire and only given them a few short texts along the way. She pulled her phone out with one hand, blindly typing in a message for them to stay back as she kept her eye on the fighting. Having them nearby might help them escape, but if those two showed up and it turned into a brawl with the Protectorate, things would only get more complicated. Neither had been particularly close to the rest of the team with Skitter gone and testing old loyalties might be too much.  
  
Rachel was having trouble dealing with Vex. Her dogs were getting slowly hemmed in by her forcefields. Tattletale could see from the shape of the fight that Vex was steadily gaining the upper-hand. She was positioning her forcefields to separate Rachel’s dogs from each other and from her. Rachel wasn’t stupid, but she didn’t have the same kind of tactical thinking that Vex clearly did. If Rachel got blocked in, there went their escape route. At least Animos hadn’t shown up yet, otherwise they might’ve been on the back-foot.  
  
She needed to get help to Rachel and get everyone moving. They only had a few minutes before whatever Tagg had in play came down on their heads. That jackass had enjoyed making their lives hell over the last few months far too much. Tattletale ran out of cover, heading for Grue and Squire. Sure, they were closest to the most dangerous cape on the field, but if she could get them to follow her lead, the rest would follow.  
  
Triumph looked up as he finished cuffing and foaming Spree, spotting her running by.  
  
“Hey! Stop!” he shouted, looking caught between watching Spree and moving to stop her.  
  
It seemed their temporary alliance in finding Squire was up, so she raised two hands and flipped him the bird as she ran past, getting out of range of his shout.  
  
She yelled at Grue as she got closer, “Grue! We gotta get out of here.”  
  
The black motorcycle helmet painted with the face of a skull turned to face her. “No shit. The Butcher is out for blood though.”  
  
She waved her hands around frantically. “Fuck the Butcher, she can’t follow us with half of the Protectorate jumping down her throat. Help me get Squire’s attention.”  
  
Grue gave her a dissatisfied grunt, but starting blanketing the area in darkness. The heavy darkness rolled out slowly giving her some degree of concealment. She didn’t duck into it, that would just blind her, but it gave her a quick retreat if the Butcher came for her. She ran sideways, keeping the slowly expanding cloud next to her as she headed for the last place she had seen the Squire.  
  
An impact shook the Boardwalk, wooden planks shaking and rocking. Tattletale nearly lost her footing, windmilling her arms to keep herself upright. She glanced around, seeing a massive blood stained hole in the Boardwalk where Hemorrhagia had been dueling Squire’s friend. The Myrridin knock-off seemed pleased with himself and began to head her way.  
  
_Very pleased with himself. Feels good about out-maneuvering Hemorrhagia with her chosen element. Was told to handle things. Has interpreted that intentionally liberally._  
  
Fuck, today was just getting worse. Whoever Squire’s friend was, he very well might be more of a threat than she was. Sure she could duke it out with the Butcher, but her friend had just smacked two of the Teeth down and was looking positively unphased for it. He was blindfolded, but she still needed to avoid being his next target.  
  
_Sees with his powers._  
  
That was all she needed to duck into Grue’s smoke. Her vision instantly disappeared, the chaotic sounds of the Boardwalk disappearing as well. The world was a dark, inky canvas, her own thoughts sounding muted inside it. She turned her power up, using her previous vision of the Boardwalk to guide her.  
__  
Bench approximately ten feet forward. Wall to your right, two feet after the bench. Approximately thirty steps to be out of Grue's darkness.  
  
She jogged lightly out of the smoke, seeing the end of the alley exactly as she anticipated. It opened onto one of the many scenic streets that paralleled the Boardwalk. Full of boutique shops, overpriced parking spots, and a very disappointing hoagie foodcart. Actually, the foodcart was gone, due to an entirely coincidental food safety inspection after some roaches had crawled inside, but that wasn’t relevant to her at the moment. The Squire a mere ten feet away, currently running from a hail of projectiles fired by the Butcher, was.  
  
Tattletale immediately ducked back into the alley.  
  
_I am not getting shot by those javelins she calls arrows._  
  
The Squire seemed to have the same idea, with her rapidly summoned ice walls falling apart she ducked into the alley right after Tattletale.  
  
“Ah, fancy seeing you here. I had a question actually,” Squire asked in surprisingly casual tone.  
  
“Go for it,” Tattletale replied.  
  
“Well two actually. The first is where I can get an outfit like that”-she pointed at Tattletale’s bodysuit-”for a...friend. The second is how many fucking powers does she have?” Squire jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the last spot the Butcher had been.  
  
“Roughly? Fourteen. As for the bodysuit, we actually have a tailor on the team and-” Tattletale cut herself off, diving to the side as the Butcher appeared in front of them, the explosion helping send her further away.  
  
Squire muttered some sort of curse under her breath and ducked under the swing as the Butcher nearly decapitated her with a pillar of concrete.  
  
_Butcher eight, reformed matter._  
  
The woman, or perhaps girl now that Tattletale got a better look at how young her face seemed, punched the Butcher in the mouth. The Butcher smiled and Squire shook her hand for a second in pain before grabbing a trash can lid off the nearby garbage and using it as an impromptu shield. Lucky for her the nearby store used the more durable metal cans rather than the cheap plastic bins that were common in the city. _All American Steel sticker on side indicates store owner overly patriotic._ The metal bent heavily under the first hit, but it was giving Squire room to maneuver.  
  
Tattletale reached for the pistol at her waist and hesitated. Squire was from whatever dimensional portal they had tried to open and clearly fucked up. If she shot the Butcher and Squire killed her, would it go to Squire, which was already bad, or to her? She was the closest cape without questionable acceptability. On the other hand, she didn’t need to worry about being Butchered if the Butcher killed Squire and then her.  
  
She pulled out the pistol and fired a shot at the Butcher’s legs. The tall woman skirted out of the way before Tattletale had even pulled the trigger, chucking the concrete club at her casually.  
  
_Butcher three, danger sense. Also super strength._  
  
She rolled to the side, barely avoiding the club as it crashed into the pavement next to her. That could’ve killed her if it had hit. _ She’s not worried about holding back. Not worried about Protectorate response. Making a play at something?_ Right as Squire shield bashed the Butcher with the trashcan lid an eerie blue light filled the end of the alley.  
  
“Two and seven pillars, riding on an azure breeze,” a voice carried down from above.  
  
The Butcher froze in place, floating upwards.  
  
“Water runs, the spoked wheel spins,” it continued.  
  
The Butcher struggled and lines of light became visible, crackling as she pulled against them. Squire was wiping the sweat from her forehead, watching tiredly.  
  
“Once a desert, the harsh wind blows,” Heirophant chanted lightly.  
  
“Water recedes, all is dust,” he finished.  
  
The Butcher pulled against the bonds, her arms managing to shatter two of the chains that bound her. Her face looking pained, she flickered for a second, an explosion buffeting out harmlessly into the air around her.  
  
_Unable to teleport away. In extreme pain. Looks pale. Dry. Forcible dehydration._  
  
That was the ticket. Squire’s friend had somehow copied Sere’s power. He was circumventing the Butcher’s Brute powers by killing her through a method that didn’t care about the toughness of her flesh. Tattletale burst to her feet, reaching for Squire.  
  
Squire jerked back, looking off-guard as she caught Tattletale’s hand. “Careful there,” she said warningly.  
  
“The Butcher’s power passes on to whoever kills her, you have to tell him to stop,” she frantically said.  
  
“What happens?” she asked, wariness of Tattletale switching to general wariness.  
  
“The person inherits the powers of the Butcher and all the voices of the previous Butchers. Drives them insane. Stop him! Now,” she hastily explained.  
  
The Butcher looked about ready to expire, her jerking having grown weaker and weaker, now barely moving as a ring of water grew in the air around her.  
  
“Fucking hells,” Squire muttered, forming a platform of ice as she looked up at the limp form of the Butcher.  
  
The Butcher spasmed and Tattletale watched Squire jump up onto the platform of ice, throwing her hand out towards the figure.  
  
“**Take**.”  
  



	39. 4.0c - Sere

### 4.0c - Sere

  
“Take note Chancellor. I think we shall call that one Imperial Unit of Fucked Up. It’s so helpful to have these things standardized.”  
-Dread Empress Massacre  
  
  
Sere had been probably the only person in PRT or Protectorate employ who even somewhat missed having Skitter around. Oh yes, she was a terror and a criminal and all sorts of awful, but the truth of the matter was that she had been why he was transferred here. Without Skitter around, he had found himself stuck in a shit posting fighting villains who were more experienced than your normal run of the mill and the one he countered had disappeared. That left him with fighting people like the Butcher, if you could even call that thing people.  
  
If he was going to be stuck here, he’d much rather fight the person he had been brought here to fight. Tagg was quite the hardass though and had insisted on keeping him on board in the event Skitter was planning something. Things had been harder as an unaligned cape, sure, but at least he hadn’t had a boss.  
  
“Sere, follow them!” someone shouted through his ear piece.  
  
Sere grunted an affirmative in return, following the Butcher and the new cape as their fight lead into an alley. There wasn’t a good angle for him to get a full view. He was perpendicular to the alley and he needed to be parallel, but to do so would put him out in the open. While he could likely fend the Butcher off briefly with his power, getting drawn into the fight was not what he wanted.  
  
He crept forward, trying to keep the moderate sized sedan parked near the alley between him and the two capes. A crash rung out from the alley, the sound of something impacting metal quickly following. It reminded him of his time out in the Pennsylvania sticks. He had come across a small town that was battleground for two Brutes. The same kind of heavy, earthy impacts that you heard in your bones had been there as well.  
  
The sounds stopped after a few seconds and he dreaded what usually came next. Talking to the winner, seeing if they were a threat. In this case, arresting whoever remained as part of Tagg’s ambitious scheme to decapitate the parahuman gangs in the city. Regardless of who won, he was likely going to have a difficult fight ahead of him. Obviously if the Butcher won, he was calling in the full strike team so they could go with the containment plan. If it was the Squire, he was less certain how that’d go. Possibly alright, he had seen her using ice and he could deal with that. Some sort of Shaker-Brute combination.  
  
He edged around the corner to see what was going on. The Butcher hung dead in the air, held up by some strange effect of pillars and light. The Squire was below, looking worse for the wear but intact. Next to her was Tattletale, the distinctive bodysuit giving her away immediately. Sere sighed under his mask as he approached them.  
  
“Which one of you got Butchered?” he asked, dreading the answer.  
  
The Squire raised her hand, quickly lowering it to cover her mouth as she gagged. A long burp erupting from her after a moment.  
  
“I think...I got indigestion,” she said slowly.  
  
Sere stared at her. “Indigestion,” he replied flatly.  
  
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Tattletale muttered continuously to the side.  
  
The girl gagged again and then swallowed heavily, shaking her head. “Worse than fucking aragh…” Looking up she gave both him and the concerned looking Tattletale a thumbs up. “I’m okay now.”  
  
Sere watched the cape go stock still and then collapse backwards. He jerked forward to try and catch her but she hung a few inches off the ground. The other new cape, Hierophant, floated down next to her, gently lowering her to the ground.  
  
“I have stopped the explosion,” he stated simply.  
  
“Explosion?!” Tattletale half shouted.  
  
Sere stepped back, looking at the girl turned bomb situation. She didn’t look like she was about to explode, but he fortunately hadn’t ever had the opportunity to know what that would look like. He had fought B-listers in the sticks and occasionally showed up to Endbringer fights if the call went out in time for him to respond.  
  
“Indeed. One moment please. I need to revive Catherine,” he said, turning his back to them.  
  
Rather ballsy, as far as Sere was concerned, but not unwarranted. He had watched the man throw Spree and Hemorrhagia around like sock puppets wielded by a rampaging toddler. The casual use of the cape’s name had Sere wincing, but he could keep a secret. Tattletale though? That poor girl’s identity was as good as gone. As suddenly as she had collapsed, the Squire was awake again.  
  
“Zeze? What happened? Where’d my swamp go?” she asked her companion.  
  
“You attempted to integrate an entirely foreign power system into your soul, which I should remind you, is already tenuously balanced with Winter. If I had not intervened your soul would’ve exploded along with all the magical energy it contains,” he lectured.  
  
The girl blinked once, slowly and nodded. “Right. Thanks for handling that. Is it stable now or…?”  
  
“It is literally as far from stable as possible without exploding. I’m unsure of how to proceed, I lack the tools or environment to do the necessary repairs. I’m not even entirely sure what the necessary repairs would constitute,” he admitted, looking concerned.  
  
Tattletale looked to Sere, whispering, “Do something. Get your superiors to send someone with a Trump rating.”  
  
“I need more to go on than a supervillain ordering me about,” Sere replied brusquely.  
  
“Oh yeah? Ask them what Watchdog thinks of this. Because my power right now is doing the closest equivalent it has to saying ‘Fuck’ repeatedly,” she hissed.  
  
Sere glared back at her, though the effect was lost given the featureless silver plate he used as a mask. Regardless, he was pretty sure she’d get the idea.  
  
“Well I was going to murder her in my soul swamp, but when I passed out there I was in some sort of burning tribunal. If I didn’t know better, I'd say it was Praesi in design. Maybe Mercantian,” she quipped.  
  
Soul swamp? What were these two capes? He had been told they might have strange power-sets and to be prepared, but they had proven to be even stranger than he had figured they might be. One was pretty clearly Myrrdin junior, acting like he was a mage of some sort. The other was rambling about souls. Capes tended to be strange, he knew he had some peculiarities himself, but this was way out there. Like Pennsyl-tucky power cults out there.  
  
The Hierophant, who was apparently also Zeze, toyed with one of his locks of long hair. “I’d theorize that the Butcher is still trying to take you over, but is being forced to at least partially adapt to the rules your soul operates under.”  
  
“Would you shut up?” the Squire snipped, speaking to thin air. “Okay, this is going to get old fast. I can barely hear you over the dozen screaming voices that came with this thing. How long did you buy me?”  
  
Sere frowned. The girl was being awfully nonchalant for someone in the process of being converted into the latest Butcher. Was she just trying to ignore the inevitable or had she truly not understood what she had done?  
  
“This is no joking matter. Your only hope is to surrender yourself to our custody that we might contain you before the Butcher takes hold,” he said, stepping forward to assert himself. If they surrendered then maybe the worst case scenario could be avoided. Or worst-er case, since the Butcher getting a new host was already worst case. Christ Almighty, maybe he should go back home to the south like his mama had wanted. No paycheck was worth this.  
  
The Squire held a hand up to stop him, shaking her head. “No, you see as long as we’re still trading jokes over it, nothing too bad can happen. The worst thing we can do is take this seriously.”  
  
“That makes no sense!” Sere shouted in growing frustration and anxiety.  
  
Tattletale looked at the Squire and grimaced, as if the sight of her was painful now. Sere wasn’t quite that far gone yet, but the impending Butcher XV was a serious concern. He tapped his headpiece to life, sub-vocalizing under his mask to trigger the priority channel.  
  
“Butcher deceased, Squire is the new Butcher. Need direction on how to proceed.”  
  
The Hierophant spoke to her, “Approximately three minutes. I paused the collapse of your metaphysical state with a spell I adapted to mimic what the Summer Queen did. I regret that it’s a rather sloppy implementation with significant energy bleed. Not my finest work.”  
  
“Possible critical situation in three minutes,” he reported nearly silently.  
  
Tattletale spoke up, “Hold on. We have to do something. For one, I need my city in one piece. Two, I need you two alive to tell me what happened to Skitter. And three, I don't need whatever the hell is going on here.” She pointed to Hierophant. “What exactly do you need to at least extend this pause she’s under?”  
  
“Sit tight Sere, strike team moving in on your position. Containment plan is a go.”  
  
Hierophant threw his hands up in obvious frustration. “If I knew that, I would be acquiring it myself. But I do not. What she has done is wholly without precedent. With a day, perhaps I could determine where to begin, but not in a matter of minutes.”  
  
The Squire was standing silently, looking inward and thoughtful. Her hand on her chin as she seemed to ignore the debate raging around her.  
  
“Well presumably you don’t want little miss reckless abandonment over there to nuke our city with her soul or whatever it is, so give me something to go on. Anything.” Tattletale tried. The city had already been flooded, filled with serial killers, attacked by a giant cloning monster, and taken over by warlords. Nuking it might be a mercy at this point. It would certainly get his contract re-opened for negotiation if the city he was assigned to didn't exist anymore.  
  
“I am not trying to withhold information because there is no information to withhold. The mantle of Winter that resides inside her has been fatally disturbed and is attempting to disperse itself. How the Butcher’s powers interact with that I am equally unsure. I would posit there is likely no one in Creation who could be sure,” he replied, sounding on the verge of snapping at her.  
  
“Strike team in position, prepare for engagement,” the voice in his ear said.  
  
The Squire snapped her fingers, a solemn look appearing on her features as she seemed to have come to a conclusion.  
  
“I have a plan. Zeze, this will probably put me out of action for awhile. I trust you to do what you have to,” she said. “I’m sorry for putting this on you. I owe you a fancy scroll or maybe a stick to fend off Archer with.”  
  
Sere primed his power, facing a cone towards the alleyway where he could catch all three in his power. If he could stun them all in the first shot then it would greatly simplify matters. He had little choice, given the rapidly evolving situation before him.  
  
“It’s only been five minutes and I’m already done with these voices,” she muttered. “**Break**.”  
  
Sere saw fractal patterns and distorted images fill his sight, two colossal creatures rotating around each other. Then he fell backward and promptly passed out.  
  
  



	40. 4.0 - Catherine

### 4.0 - Catherine

  
“Like flowers in a garden are Named, for as they increase in number, they diminish in value.”  
-Extract from the personal notes of the First Prince, Septimus of Cleaves  
  
  
I looked around, shaking my head as I tried to clear the sense of vertigo from it. The room was on fire, much like the last time I had seen it. Fourteen raised boxed seats made of tan wood surrounded the center of the room in a semicircle. Nearly half the seats were broken things, fragmented and splintered. Much as before, the fire didn’t seem to actually consume anything so much as provide the general tone of the room. High, thin windows let in an early morning light that shone down on the half of the seats that were still occupied.  
  
“You idiot! You’ve destroyed it all!” one of the figures shouted, as raving mad as they had been in my brief history with them so far.  
  
“Ahhhhh haha, the girl has balls! The balls of a queen!” another laughed raucously.  
  
“A queen’s balls are for dancing, not for burning,” yet another reprimanded.  
  
I cleared my throat, projecting loudly enough to speak over the din of insanity, “The state of my balls is my own business, burning or not. Now that I’ve demonstrated exactly how far I’m willing to put up with you, which is not far at all, are you going to shut up and listen?”  
  
The tribunal crowed back, half of them clamoring angrily and the other half jeering the former.  
  
“The Teeth will never submit to an outsider!” shouted the one I thought the most far gone.  
  
“Oi, shut up. The girl has us beat fair ‘n square already, halfa us are already gone,” replied one in a nasal voice and dressed in what looked almost like Hero garb.  
  
“Where’d the others go?” I asked, glancing at the empty, splintered seats.  
  
I already had an idea of what had happened to them, given my liberal use of Aspects. I was gambling that it would be worth it. If I had tried to Take a power that wasn’t something I could thematically fit in with, I suspected the backlash would’ve been fatal. It was an intuitive sense of what I could and couldn’t use it for. The Butcher’s power was all about taking the power of their enemies and making it their own, about beating death in a sense. It fit, albeit loosely, with my own track record.  
  
“Gone for good little missy. Whatever it was you did shattered them to pieces. They were never the most stable of the crew,” a Butcher replied sardonically.  
  
Break had been the second part of the gamble. Whatever magic system or powers existed here were fundamentally different from those of Creation. To survive grabbing onto something like that I needed to shape it into something I could hold onto. It was messy, certainly, and I was betting a lot on poor Masego getting me through this. The reward though...a set of powers not tied to any Name or magic. A set of powers that existed outside Creation.  
  
I resisted the urge to let out a whistle as I considered the sheer scope of what might occur as fallout from this. Best not to get ahead of myself before I’d come out of this okay, but for now I was alive and that was about as good of an indicator of success as I could get. Now I had to consolidate and hold onto the gains I had gotten. It could all go sideways so very easily.  
  
“So, what happens now?” I asked aloud, looking around the burning room, there were no exits, no doors. Just smoldering wood paneled walls, flames licking towards the ceiling.  
  
“Now, ye are judged and found wantin’,” said one of the Butchers.  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, wanting to get past the vague omens of doom.”  
  
The one who I had pegged as the most insane jumped down onto the dais. The wood floor cracked underneath his feet and he rolled his shoulders, snarling as he did. The light, intermittent rainfall of saw dust became heavier as the room shook with each step he took towards me. He was a tall man of lightish complexion, dark unkempt hair half covering his face. He sported a set of trousers with strange patterns and a tattered shirt tied around his waist.  
  
“You are not worthy,” he growled.  
  
I held my hands out to the remaining members of the tribunal. “Do your friends not get a say? I thought this was a place of judgment by all of you.”  
  
“The judgment is that you will die, this is known,” he replied, towering over me.  
  
“You know, my people have never been fans of tyrants or summary execution,” I said warningly. I reached for the blade at my side. It was the goblin steel one I had gotten all that time ago, long since shattered.  
  
“I don’t care, your people will be ash and you will be us,” he snarled. The room cracked like glass and I felt myself pulled in many different directions at once.  
  


***

  
The woman I had fought in the city stood in front of me, her massive bow raised, an arrow nocked.  
  
“I never wanted it to turn out this way. I was just so angry,” she said tiredly, face streaked with exhaustion and anguish.  
  
I dove to the side, weaving a wall of ice, to my defense. The arrow punched through, striking unerringly to lodge into my thigh. I grit my teeth, not taking the time to snap the shaft or even prod at the wound. I had my blade in hand already and reached back for my shield, feeling it there as I needed it.  
  
The Butcher nocked another arrow and released from the far side of the relatively small room, empty tribunal seats swathed in rising flames behind her. I snapped the shield up and stumbled as the arrow hit into my shoulder from the side.  
  
_Her arrows curve around defenses._ I realized, cursing at the pain in my shoulder. Both limbs on my left side were stuck, slowing me down and weakening me. I had to end this quickly then. A drawn out fight wasn’t in my favor and the distance between us wasn’t in hers. Usually archers would have fought from much further away, unless it was Archer proper. Even she was weaker using her long knives than with her bow.  
  
I kicked the small table over that had sat on my side of the dais, sending it tumbling towards her. As she re-nocked her bow and stepped to the side I was already charging. Shield up, head down and protected as far as I could. I had to assume she could hit anything not covered and I had to try and minimize the areas she could hit that would end the fight.  
  
Another arrow hit me in the leg, the same leg as before, and I felt it go out from under me, sending me tumbling. I rolled through the fall, feeling my leg burn in agony as the arrow hafts snapped from the motion, but not before tugging at their wounds. I came out of the roll to see the Butcher already darting backwards, circling sideways to keep distance. I chucked the shield at her haphazardly, a fourth arrow flying out to send the shield spinning. The blade followed right behind it, all my aim put into that.  
  
There was no arrow ready for the blade and it hit her dead on in the forehead with the pommel. Not what I had been hoping for, but enough to send her eyes rolling into her head and her collapsed onto the floor. Dragging myself over on my uncooperative leg I eventually reached her. That same melancholy look she had worn since the beginning still on her face. I made it quick when I cut her throat.  
  


***

  
I stood in an empty room. The flames smoldered weakly around the empty seats. It seemed like a trap at first, but twenty minutes of thoroughly checking every corner of the room had me convinced it was just empty.  
  
Weird.  
  


***

  
The Butcher stood at the other end of the dias. He leaned against the lowest of the raised thrones lazily, looking off at the fire that burned the throne next to his.  
  
“You’ve changed things. Will it be enough though, I wonder?” he pondered aloud.  
  
Despite the blade in my hand I waited, watching him. “You could help me you know,” I tried.  
  
He laughed, deep and full. “I would, if for no other reason to spit in the eye of this...hell,” he said, tone shifting from amused to vindictive. “But I cannot. I was always willing to wait, to be patient. If not for what little of that remains, I’d be driven to destroy you.”  
  
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Can you tell me anything I can use then?”  
  
His lips curled up in amusement. “I feel no pain, my skin is broken by no blade. I will wait while you prepare, but that is the best I can do for you.”  
  
Invulnerable skin, or at least extremely tough skin, was certainly a strong power considering my current arsenal. I had a blade in hand and I could feel the call of Winter on the tips of my fingers, tingling with cold numbness. My Name was beyond my reach though, it felt strangely full and heavy. I could sense I would be getting no use from my Aspects here.  
  
If I assumed my blade wouldn’t break his skin and I couldn’t wear him down with pain, that left me relatively limited options. I presumed whatever weird soul fuckery space we were in would respect what were generally fatal wounds. If I couldn’t cut him to death or set him on fire with goblin munitions, I could still drown him in ice.  
  
I started to form blocks of ice around the room, growing them even as the flames continued to rage. When there were enough of sufficient size to have a few back-ups, I collapsed two towers of ice onto him. He struggled against the weight and I piled more ice onto him. Right, he had said strong skin, but not enhanced strength. I wasn’t fighting the amalgamation of Butchers, just one part.  
  
It felt dirty to slowly crush and drown to death a man who had waited silently for death, but I reasoned it was the best mercy I could give him. The hell that must’ve been being stuck in this strange collection of souls fueling some psychotic murderer was something that I imagined no price was too great to escape.  
  


***

  
I looked around, but the seats were all empty and the fire that had consumed the room was only flickering weakly. I waited for an ambush, but nothing came. Behind each seat was nothing and I concluded the room was truly empty. I spent twenty minutes or so driving my sword into the wall and trying to break through to somewhere else, but it seemed there was only more wood behind the panels.  
  
Weird.  
  


***

  
An empty room? Where had the Butchers gone? Had I passed the test somehow, or was this merely the first one? Knowing how these things worked I wasn’t so lucky as to have gotten off so easily. No, there had to be some trick. I just had to find it.  
  
Weird.  
  


***

  
“Ahahaha, balls girl! I see I’m your judge! How sweet for me,” he crooned.  
  
Oh fuck, I just had to get one of the crazy ones first.  
  
“You know, we can do this the easy way. You can just roll over and I won’t have to skewer you,” I offered, ever gracious and merciful.  
  
He cracked his knuckles, grinning from ear to ear. “And where’s the fun in that? Come at me!”  
  
A rip-roaring anger washed over me and I charged at him, blade darting forward for his chest. Dark metal armor covered most of his body and one arm, which he used to bat my blade back. Ice appeared on his less armored side, crashing down on him. The Butcher punched straight up, shattering the ice, as he did he grabbed a piece, tossing it at me.  
  
The sheer dickishness of trying to use my own ice against me. I smacked the ice aside and dove for him, blade seeking out his legs, testing for an opening. My blade bounced off the armor he wore both times, the only spots that looked to be vulnerable were his arm and the back of his legs from the way the armor was strapped over his trousers.  
  
I was too close and the Butcher kicked out, catching me in the flank and sending my flying back. I summoned a small ramp of ice, easing my fall and groaning at the pain in my side. I had probably broken those ribs yet again. Honestly those ribs were probably held together mostly by magic and spite at this point.  
  
_Mistake_, the voice of Black said in my head.  
  
I screwed my eyes shut for a second, focusing on the sound and feel of his voice. I was making a mistake. I was being far too aggressive. The Squire that Black had taught would never have taken that hit. Why was I so angry? I couldn’t find the reason as I probed at it. Everything was making me angry.  
  
_It must be something he’s doing._ It was the only thing I could make sense of. All of my anger pointed back to him, to the fucking asshole making me fight him in a death match in my own soul. Well fuck him too.  
  
I funneled the anger, keeping in mind my lessons with the Calamities. I was never going to be as clinical as Black, but I could control my emotions. Fucking- I had to stop swearing at everything. Fuck. Fuck!  
  
The Butcher was eyeing me with what looked a lot like some condescending amusement. I resisted the urge to throw something, instead getting to my feet slowly as I felt my side tenderly. This whole mental fuckery was really throwing me off, especially since I wasn’t even sure how that worked being inside my own soul and all.  
  
I stalked towards him slowly, taking my time.  
  
“Ohoho girly, you’re coming back for more?” he taunted smugly.  
  
“I can’t beat the shit out of you without coming closer,” I replied, deadpan.  
  
The next few minutes were full of pain for both of us, but in the end only one of us was left standing. I learned that while his rage power didn’t last for terribly long I was pissed enough by the time it wore off that I still ended up gutting him twice just to be sure.  
  
Yeah, fuck that guy.  
  


***

  
A man stood on the other end of the dias, a smooth wooden spear in each hand. I drew my blade, watching him carefully. He either had to be insanely dextrous if he was planning to wield two spears at once, or he was keeping one as a back up.  
  
“Yer an utter moron t’ have picked a fight wit’ me,” he said, spitting into the fire.  
  
I looked around the room, empty as it was of the other Butchers. “I don’t think I had a choice.”  
  
“Ye think I give a shit?” he asked angrily and tossed one of the spears at me.  
  
I leapt to the side, the spear passing through where I had been a second later. He slammed his foot against the floor and another spear grew up out of it, ending up perfectly in his grasp. The same ability I had seen the Butcher use to make cudgels and all manner of crude weapons. His control seemed better, more refined, the spears looking almost elegant.  
  
I looked around the room and confirmed the suspicion I had. Everything here was made of wood and while the fire seemed content to roar around the fringes, I had other ideas for it. I kicked the table over, giving myself some cover as I knelt down, hacking at a table leg with my blade. The table thudded as a spear buried into it. My own progress on cutting off the table leg was depressingly little, hacking through solid wood was not as quick as hacking through flesh.  
  
I stood up, peeking over the table to see a wooden halberd swinging for me. Ducking back down I scooted out of cover, stabbing out with my blade for the Butcher’s legs. A wooden slate formed out of the ground, nearly catching my blade in it, forcing me to pull back rapidly. I made a grab for the wooden spear and the halberd shifted shapes, turning into an axe and cutting down at my exposed limb. Wood might not cut my arm off, but a heavy enough swing would shatter bone well enough that the difference would be unimportant. I pivoted, pushing myself forward as I grabbed the spear so that my shoulders passed the blade of the axe, leaving the shaft to hit against my shoulders painfully. Sore, but no more than a nasty bruise this way.  
  
Trying to pivot to stab at the Butcher while I retreated found me nearly falling over, my feet trapped in rapidly formed pieces of wood that wrapped over them. The Butcher reached out, dropping the axe as a long knife formed into his hand and I threw a flurry of stabs at his chest and arms. The first two he parried before my blade work managed to catch his knife, circling it and sending it flying. Disarmed for a half second he stepped back and I hacked at the hastily formed wood holding my feet down, summoning ice to crack it apart at the breaks.  
  
Dashing back and out of his range, whatever it was, I made it quickly to the edge of the dais, sticking the spear into the fire. He had formed another spear and it whizzed over my head as I went low, chucking his own back, towards the knocked over table. The spear struck true, sticking out at an angle and the fire crept along the length, slowly burning towards the table.  
  
It was just a matter of waiting him out now. He only had so much space and goblin steel would win out over wood in the end.  
  


***

  
Huh, the room was empty. That wasn’t what I had expected after all the doom, gloom, and even frank bloodlust I had felt.  
  
Weird.  
  


***

  
I looked over at the woman on the other side of the room and found myself hurtling back, flames licking up my clothes as I tumbled against the floor. I turned the tumble into a roll, my blade scraping out of its sheath noisily as I looked for the Butcher. She stood next to where I had been, a ring of smoking, blackened wood around her. Dressed in some sort of black fitted garb with thick, black tattooed patterns running down her arms.  
  
Right, one of them had to have been the teleporter. A power that was frankly ridiculously powerful and stupidly unfair. Teleportation over any distance was the province of mass rituals and sacrifices, needing immense power and far from a casual combat capability. But the Butcher apparently could do it merely to augment their other also terrifying abilities.  
  
She disappeared and I knew what was about to happen, but without the time needed to react to it. Within a fraction of a second I was sent skidding forward from behind, her boot kicking into the top of my back, missing my head as she scuffed me. I swung my sword around, blindly anticipating the low swing that came for me. My blade collided with the slender, yet heavy spiked cudgel she wielded.  
  
Nearly losing my grip on my blade from the powerful swing I retreated a step, pushing myself to stand again. There had to be some sort of limit on that teleport, otherwise I couldn’t see how anyone had managed to kill this Butcher. When I had fought her the teleports had been less frequent. I wasn’t sure if this was because of the space we fought in or because she had been more conservative before. In the end, it didn’t matter too much. I needed to handle her here and now, with what she had.  
  
She disappeared again and this time I was ready for it, already stepping forward and stabbing behind me. So the hit I took to the side that sent me spinning was unexpected to say the least. I threw up a wall of ice to block myself off from her, coughing up blood as I felt at my limp arm and tender ribs. Thankfully I knew that injuries in here didn’t manifest outside from my Name visions, because otherwise I’d have fucked my arm up pretty badly. Unfortunately I still needed to kill her to get back out and I was down a limb.  
  
“Pathetic prey,” the Butcher mocked, the ice cracking as she slammed her cudgel into it. “You think you’re the first to try that trick?”  
  
Well shit, this one was pretty clever actually. She was staying one step ahead of what her target would expect, abusing that to get easy hits in. That she had taunted me now and given the game away supposedly only meant that the next hit would be betting on me acting on what she had said. The gimmick was a bit odd though. Why even bother playing it that safe when she had a power that versatile and lethal? The only thing that came to mind was that there had to be a weakness to it she was wary of.  
  
I threw walls of ice up all around me, forming a box that I could get back to my feet in without risking another nasty surprise. The ice cracked on one side and then the other. If I was someone who was trying to avoid ever being hit, I would bait out defenses and then hit from a completely different angle. I expanded the walls a bit, pushing out on the damaged ones and up. Forming a set of small hand and footholds on the inside I shimmied up towards the top, hanging painfully near the top without peaking my head over.  
  
The Butcher crashed through one of the undamaged walls, her cudgel breaking through it in one single swipe. The damage to the other walls had been her sandbagging her strength, trying to make me rely on something she knew she could break through. I launched myself over the top with a burst of ice underneath my feet and slammed into her from above, driving my blade down through the top of her shoulder and into her chest as I fell on top of her. I screamed in pain from my mangled arm hitting against her and then the floor. Laying there, covered in blood, I took a moment to close my eyes and just not move.  


  
***

  
Empty? The blazing tribunal sat empty before me. The windows that lead to the outside, which were almost impossibly high up and far too thin to slip through, shone only with pitch black. Was this part of the process or had I broken it worse than I had thought?  
  
Weird.  
  


***

  
A man stood across the room, in each hand he carried two vicious looking handaxes. Ragged, sharp things made of cheap steel that had broken, wooden handles wrapped with leather bindings. His hair was long, pleated ropes of it interspersed between his head and his bird’s nest of a beard. His outfit sported sharp spikes of metal bound along the outside of his arms and down the front of his legs. I had the feeling there wasn’t much room for negotiation here and drew my blade, keeping my eyes on him.  
  
He walked towards me and I, him. I wasn’t about to give up the advantage by letting him pick his favored engagement distance and force me to start on the defensive. The Butcher swung the axes in a flurry, one following shortly behind the other, forcing me to stagger how I blocked to avoid the follow up blow. He kicked out and I slammed the toe of my boot into the side of his knee, avoiding the spikes he sported. The man grunted in muted pain, letting the blow to his leg spin him, but catching himself and using the momentum to go low, spinning his arms around to swing for my legs.  
  
I skipped back and aimed another kick for his head. The Butcher fell back to avoid it, kipping back up as he reversed the motion and got back to his feet. I thrust my blade forward, aiming for his chest. He leaned into the blow, the sword driving through his shoulder as he slammed an axe towards my neck. I let go of the blade, the axe head scratching a wide, shallow wound along my arm.  
  
Spinning around him I threw a punch, clocking him squarely in the back of the head and sending him sprawling onto the floor. The wound on my shoulder burned like it was fulminant with infection, hurting far more than such an injury should have. I took a short step over to the Butcher, slamming my leg into his side to keep him down as he fumbled on the floor. The ragged man clawed at my leg, digging his nails into my ankle and kicking up chaotically. I stomped down with my other foot on his wrist, feeling bone shatter under my heel and his grip slacken.  
  
With my ankle starting to burn as well I picked up one of the axes that he had dropped as he fell. He rolled over, pulling my blade out and staring at me with an animalistic fury. Fumbling with the blade he sloppily cut at me and I batted it aside with the handaxe, burying it in his neck before he could get the blade under control.  
  
The Butcher collapsed onto his back from the half propped up position he had held, eyes still staring at me in unhinged fury as I retrieved my blade from his grasp, leaving the axe lodged in his clavicle.  
  


***

  
A man dressed in skin-tight bright green stood across from me. A pattern of silver accented the green, moving up his well muscled figure symmetrically. Had he not been an insane voice in my head I might’ve found him attractive. A perfectly uniform rod of metal held in his hands, on each end was what looked like a weighted, blunt tip.  
  
“Fool, the fucking fool,” he said quickly, eyes looking off to some distant point.  
  
“It’s working out so far,” I lied.  
  
“Moron. Idiot. Always rushing in, acting without thinking,” he ranted, growing agitated.  
  
I thinned my lips. “I have the feeling we aren’t having the same conversation here, even if it happens to be oddly relevant.”  
  
“Dumbass. Idiot. Both of us.”  
  
I frowned, not sure how I felt about the Butcher before me ranting and raving into thin air. It was like he didn’t even see me. I doubted that would last forever, but I wasn’t exactly eager to start a fight with an unknown quantity either. Especially since in the stories the mad ones who didn’t take you seriously were usually the insanely powerful ones.  
  
“Both?” I asked, cautiously.  
  
He slammed the tip of the staff into the ground, the floor denting where he hit it as the sound of metal on wood rang out.  
  
“Both, yes, both! You, the fool, the headstrong, the optimist. Me, the idiot, the brave, the hero,” he shouted, eyes turning and finally seeing me.  
  
I kept one hand on the hilt of my sword, but didn’t draw it just yet. “What happened?”  
  
He pointed at me with his free hand, teeth clenched angrily. “You happened! Always you! Always me. Why did you have to go and taunt him?”  
  
My frown deepened as I tried to piece together the mad man’s ravings. “Him? The Butcher?”  
  
“The parasite. The...thing. A man, a skin of a man filled with another,” he answered, shivering even as his expression remained frozen in outrage and distress.  
  
I hesitated, trying to find something I could say to get more out of him when he began to weep.  
  
“You. Me. Both fools. Killing the parasite to save another. Idiots. Dumbasses,” he said, just as loud, but now heavily shaded with despair.  
  
Was that the common thread here? I had used Take on the Butcher to guarantee Masego wouldn’t be the recipient of a posse of insane voices. If he could have even survived the strange power of Skitter’s homeworld trying to possess him. At least with Take I knew I had a chance. Thematically it fit and it wasn’t the Villain getting his come-uppance, but a friend acting mostly selflessly.  
  
“It worked though. The Butcher is stopped. It ends here,” I said reassuringly.  
  
The man looked back at me, his head still half down, hanging depressed. “Did it? Here you remain. Fourteen pieces broken.”  
  
I didn’t know what that meant, except that he was right in that it wasn’t over quite yet. “Help me then. Remember who you were.”  
  
“Remember who they were. Who she was. Who he was. Who I was. Which is which?” he asked, demanding desperately.  
  
“A hero,” I offered.  
  
He paused, looking down again dejectedly. His knuckles white around the metal staff he held, his upper body being held up as he put his weight on hit.  
  
“A hero,” he replied affirmatively, nodding once.  
  
I saw what he was going to do before I think even he had fully decided on it, but I made no move to stop him. He held the staff by one end, letting the other rest against the floor perpendicular to him. Then with a heave of his wrists he flicked the staff up, the metal tip crunching into his forehead. The man in green collapsed backwards onto the floor, finally silent.  
  


***

  
The room was empty and weirdly silent. The flames that raged around the edges didn’t crackle loudly, but instead were soft like a campfire. The wood paneled room was empty of anyone except myself, but there was no exit. My soul had never left me stuck anywhere without a reason. There had to be an answer, or a trick of some sort.  
  
Weir-  
  
A man suddenly appeared in front of me, his mouth moving silently as if he was trying to speak. Half of him was ghostly, as if not entirely there, the other half moving in jerky, impossibly fragmented motions. He opened his mouth again and [a screeching noise](https://youtu.be/Kvn3kHJFKuI?t=45) filled the room. I staggered back, drawing my blade and holding it out defensively only to find the man, and the room, gone. I was surrounded by a limitless black expanse, devoid of landmarks.  
  
“What the fuck…” I muttered.  
  


***

  
The Butcher who had pronounced judgment leaned forward to charge at me from across the room with barely any warning.  
  
I drew the blade, sweeping to the side and slashing across his side as he bowled past me. I felt the blade run along his flesh like I had crossed with another blade. A thin line was left on his side, barely red, where I would’ve expected a gaping wound in a normal man. Of course nothing was ever normal in the murderpit called my soul.  
  
The Butcher, the first Butcher I heavily suspected, turned around. He leaned down, hand digging underneath the floor and tearing wooden boards from it, hurling one at me. I went low, holding my sword at the ready for his next charge. I would likely never measure up to the great swordsmen of the era, but I wasn’t some budding amateur at this point either. When his next charge came I pivoted, driving my sword tip first into the meat of his thigh, keeping my center of gravity low. His own momentum helping drive it past the nearly metal like flesh. I tore it back out as he swiped at me, feeling the blow breeze past me.  
  
That was no normal swipe. The power behind it had felt like something Sabah would’ve thrown, far more weight behind it than the size of the man suggested there would be. So he was durable and strong. An annoying combination that I could reasonably conclude had made him hell to down the first time. I slashed at the same leg again, only managing to hit arm this time as he blocked the blow. The other hand shot out for me and I danced backwards, slapping it lightly with the blade as I created distance.  
  
The Butcher glared at me for a second, looking all the while like an enraged predator. No real thought behind those eyes glowing with hatred and madness. He roared and I felt my body light up in pain, every part of my body suddenly burning. I stumbled, half in surprise and half in reaction to the nearly disabling pain.  
  
_Fuck, even one of them has multiple powers? I hate this world_. I thought, my mind struggling to focus through the onslaught.  
  
The Butcher charged forward at me again as I tried to resist the urge to curl up from the pain. Those eyes still glaring with feral rage. The image of a maneuver came to mind alongside the knowledge that Black would not be impressed with me for it. I lunged forward, extending both arms as I thrust the sword straight for the neck of the Butcher. My back leg going absolutely straight and forming a line with my shoulder and arm. The Butcher ran into the blade and I felt something in my leg crunch as the force of his charge crashed into me.  
  
The pain stopped though and while the weight of the Butcher was nearly toppling me I felt no struggle, no resistance from him. I pushed myself up, pushing off of his chest to pull my blade back out. The Butcher fell backwards, head hanging half off his neck, a small strip of skin still connecting the side that I had gotten my sword into.  


  
***

  
I blinked rapidly as I felt fourteen different versions of events collapse together. I could simultaneously remember cutting the archer Butcher’s throat while exploring an empty room. I could remember stabbing the Butcher through the chest while watching the former hero end his own life. All fourteen instances of myself were one again and it gave me a hell of a headache. There was a diffuse pain in my entire body which I suspected was a soul-ache, somehow.  
  
The burning tribunal had changed. Where eight Butchers had sat before, now sat none. The fragmented empty boxed thrones of the missing six were still broken, but the eight remaining seats each sported a body. A woman with her throat slit, a frozen and crushed body blue with the cold, a man with his entrails spilling out of his eviscerated abdomen, a man burned nearly to a cinder with my blade in his chest, a woman slumped back with my blade hilted in her shoulder, a Butcher bruised and beaten with a handaxe sticking from his clavicle, a man in green with a bloody wound in the center of his forehead, and a body with the head hanging half off.  
  
A bloody blade was in my hand as well, dripping bright red along the entire length. I raised the bloody blade, pointing at the now silent tribunal.  
  
“Are we done here?”  
  
The jury of corpses didn’t answer, only the flames dying low and smoldering as a door opened back behind me, where previously there had been no door. It seemed that was my cue. I sheathed the still bleeding blade, ignoring my soul’s sense of flowery imagery, and headed through the door.  
  
  



	41. 4.1 - Taylor

### 4.1- Taylor

“If there is one truth I know, it is that while tough times may be long, they do not outlast tough people. The Lycaonese have been here since time immemorial and we will be here long after even the Kingdom of the Dead turns to dust.”  
-Gudrun the True, Prince of Hannoven

Sitting on a mostly dry rock that overlooked the remains of Liesse and the lake, I looked over and saw Borer, wrapped in so many bandages that he could’ve passed as a mummy for Halloween. His half-lidded yellow eyes staring out in abject apathy from between the long rolls of gauze, his thousand yard stare the only visible part of his body.

“Was it really necessary to wrap him in over a dozen feet of gauze?” I asked, not looking at Robber as I did.

“Medic’s order,” Robber replied snappily.

“We don’t have a team medic,” I countered.

“But we have this” he said, slyly pushing a slip of parchment in front of me.

A drop of water dripped off a stray strand of hair, staining the parchment slightly. I ran a hand back through my still damp hair, pushing it back as I returned loose strands to behind my ears. The parchment appeared to be some sort of scrawl that vaguely resembled something looking like a medical order form for bandaging Borer from head to toe. I honestly couldn’t tell for the life of me if it was genuinely bad handwriting or intentionally illegible.

“And what is this supposed to be?” I asked.

“It’s a perfectly forged copy of one of the sapper’s medic’s handwriting, of course,” he answered.

I sighed. I wanted to ask how he had even found the time or supplies to put this together, considering he couldn’t have prepared a specific order to bandage Borer up like a mummy beforehand. No, asking questions was exactly what he wanted. The only way to win here was to just ignore it and move on.

“Any idea of where we are yet?” I chose to ask instead.

Robber actually looked slightly nervous, mixed in with a frankly worrying amount of glee, and wasn’t that just the most worrying thing I had seen since crashing the city.

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

I looked out at the half sunken city in the lake. Liesse was a solid eighty percent underwater now, having steadily and slowly settled more into the lake as parts shifted and settled. The undead that had filled the city had seemed happy enough to retreat to the underwater portions. This had made it easier to evacuate the city with the several thousand survivors, Praesi war criminals among them, but left us with a bit of a problem. My spiders didn’t really do underwater and now we had a massive underwater ruined city filled with hostile undead. If that wasn’t just screaming for an adventuring party, I didn’t know what was.

Fuck it, they could handle it. I did not envy the adventurers that had to try and clear that mess out.

I stretched and felt my skin tear, wincing. They could also take care of the next maniacal villain. Most of the skin on my limbs being burned to some degree, worst on my arms where it was definitely second degree burns, left me ill-inclined to help out again. I had woken up smoldering and that wasn’t a smell I’d be able to get out of my memory any time soon. The pain I could live with, but the occasional tear of flesh when I moved or stretched too far was unpleasant. I had gotten a much more conservative bandage treatment, just to my injuries, and I was still pretty thoroughly wrapped up. I had trouble getting cool ever since I woke up, it felt like I was still smoldering when I wasn’t dunking myself in the shallows we had parked next to.

Shallows that were probably going to be slowly infested with undead. Damn it. We really had to get a move on.

“Just tell me,” I bit back, annoyed.

“We hit Refuge. And by hit I mean we probably killed damn near everyone in it if they didn’t have a pretty strong Story going,” he chittered gleefully.

Fuck. I had already lost one city, did I just nuke a town too? I had saved a bare fraction of Liesse and now I had apparently wiped out some lakeside town with a sweet name like Refuge. Knowing this world, it was probably full of orphans or something. Fuck me.

I cradled my head in my hands. “How many did we kill?”

“Oh probably not that many. I don’t think Refuge was very big, but we can’t see much from over here. Probably no one important. A few Named, some dwarf emissaries.”

I wasn’t letting them go scouting again. Not with so few of us left and so many of us injured. He’d have to deal with what he could see from around our landing spot. The survivors were all gathered a little further from the shore, huddled in groups as people had found people they knew. Some few enterprising folk had started to collect water or forage a bit, but most of them were just basking in being alive. We had only just finished evacuating the city in the last hour, given how long it took to find a decent way to shore and get people moving.

“How many is not that many?” I asked in disbelief. Was Refuge a city? A town hopefully? Or even a village? Not that killing fewer people made killing any better, but I wasn’t sure I could live with wiping out another city in a day.

“From what I’ve heard Ranger isn’t the most social lady around, so probably not more than a village’s worth,” he said, not answering directly still. “Not all were Named, but probably a fair few were. Not that it really helps when a city lands on you, but there’ll probably be at least one lone survivor to swear vengeance on you,” he replied.

_Thanks Robber, you know how to cheer a girl up._

“Speaking of, we should probably scram. The dwarves are gonna be real pissed, since Refuge is technically a protectorate. And obviously Ranger isn’t here or we’d all be dead already, but we do not want to be here when she finds out what happened,” he chittered, the earlier nervousness returning.

I watched Borer stare absently out at Liesse. He wasn’t comatose or anything, just very tired. And I think moving was even more painful for him than me, so he was sitting stock still. Poor Borer. I promised myself we’d get him back home. He had saved my skin multiple times now and nearly died for it.

“Who’s Ranger?” I asked, knowing it was the obvious question. "And what's this about dwarves?"

“Just about the strongest, craziest, most homicidal maniac on the continent. Refuge was her pet project basically with everyone she trains or who is trying to convince her to teach them. I guess she can’t be known as Lady of the Lake anymore.” He gestured to the mostly ruined section of the formerly pristine lake. The waters near Liesse were looking ominously dark and I didn’t think undead would pollute the waters that way, but who knows how that worked. "Dwarves mostly stick to the underground, but they can be mean bastards if you piss 'em off. Still, I imagine they don't check on the surface all that much.

Abso-fucking-lutely great. Not only had I landed a city on a bunch of Named, probably had one swearing his life to tracking me down for murdering his village, but I also had apparently one of the worst Named on the continent out for my blood once she found out. Had Assassin known something like this would happen to whoever was sent to Liesse? Because I was feeling an awful lot like the universe here was actively hostile to me. Oh, and somewhere behind all that, I had also pissed off the dwarves probably. As long as I didn’t go in any mountains I could probably avoid that. Underground adventures were permanently off limits.

“Fucking fantastic,” I said bitterly, standing up despite the protests from my body. “Grab Akuretso and any of the Praesi he thinks might be half decent. We’ve got to get these people moving before either undead or starvation get to them.”

“Sure thing boss,” he replied with a sloppy salute. He turned to Hustler, who had come over as our conversation finished. “Think I can get Ranger to sign my dagger before she stabs me with it?”

\---

I found that as long as I sat relatively still atop my spider that my burns didn’t bother me too much. Some of the locals had scrounged up a few salves from the local plants for me on the second day of our march, which had helped a bit. I used webbing to tie myself in place, letting me stay fairly stable in my seat even as my mount traveled over uneven terrain. I reflected that we were fortunate, the forest was mostly flat and the ground not all that bad, given that it was untamed nature. Marching alongside the lake would’ve been easier, but I refused to risk attracting the attention of whatever evil was now brewing underneath the surface. After a few days I had sent some spiders to scout the shore only to find the lake had taken on a dark glassy quality, unnaturally still even with a pleasant breeze on the air.

My spiders were too low in number and too injured among those that survived to pick a fight with whatever was over there now. The weird plants and creatures of what I had learned were the Whispering Woods were taking the bulk of my forces. I was keeping the civilians safe by covering ahead of us with my swarm, but there was no shortage of strange flora and fauna willing to attack whatever came close. I simply had no choice but to cover the area with as many insects as possible to trip any surprises before the convoy ran into them. I just had to hope we got out of the woods before I ran out of giant spiders. Some of the animals, massive almost spectral wolves or two headed stags, were too large and tough to take down with my normal swarm.

I had enough insects to scout ahead and behind our ragtag convoy of refugees, as well as catch some game, but I’d lose more before we got these people back to something resembling civilization. Hunger would get some, festering wounds would get others. It simply wasn’t feasible to support several thousand civilians on foraging and hunting along, even with my spiders helping. My spiders had their own needs, but I was only feeding them as little as I could get away with for now. Liesse’s people needed whatever I could do for them.

And hadn’t I really fucked the dog there? A week’s time to think had done me no favors. No matter what way I sliced it, I was at least partially responsible for the massacre that had happened. I hadn’t pulled the trigger, but I had been the reason the trigger was pulled. If Bakuda had detonated all her bombs because we had fought her, I would’ve felt just as responsible for those deaths as I did here. Because I could’ve done better. I should’ve been more prepared, I should’ve taken more time to learn about my enemy. I had gotten impatient after months of being stuck here and had taken stories being real here to treating it like a fantasy book. I had gotten a smartass sidekick and a power up and gone off to kick some ass and go home.

Except instead of going home, I was still here. And instead of kicking ass, I had nearly died and only barely survived, with tens of thousands of people dying in the process. Fasili had apparently disappeared during the crash, Refuge had been destroyed, and that lake was certainly some kind of haunted now. I wouldn’t be surprised if Assassin argued that this voided our agreement. From the Empire’s perspective, could any of this be called a win? From anyone’s?

Borer rode alongside me, also webbed to his mount. His recovery was faster than mine, despite the worse injuries. He still needed more time to heal, given how badly he had been burned, but he was progressing well. The goblin had grown even more quiet and reserved since we had landed though and that worried me as well.

“Hey Borer,” I called over to him as we rode alongside the loosely organized caravan of refugees. Robber and Akuretso would be near the front, determining the best path back from what my spiders could scout and what the few mages who had come with us could figure out.

Borer didn’t move, but his eyes flicked over to me.

“How are you doing? Do you need a break?” The goblin was so stoic I never had a good gauge of how far he was pushing himself.

He took a moment to respond. “No, I’m doing...well.”

“Well?” I asked, curious.

“Much has happened, but...yes. I am well. Don’t worry about me Ma’am,” he said, always so formal.

That was odd to hear from someone who had received burns across most of his body and been stuck nearly immobile while he recuperated.

I needled him for more. “I’d think you’d be frustrated, being injured and with Robber wrapping you up like that.”

Borer smiled just slightly, for what passed as a smile among Goblins. “I actually requested to be part of Special Tribune Robber’s command.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” I asked, briefly checking in with my spiders around the convoy.

“Because, despite his entire personality and most of his recreational hobbies, Special Tribune Robber is most likely the best goblin alive. Sappers understand that our lives are almost certainly going to be short and our best ending is taking someone else out with us,” he explained, his words slow and methodical. “The Tribune has managed to keep doing that without dying.”

I frowned, the thought that there wasn’t much of a future for goblins was disturbing to me. Sure they were sadistic little bastards, but didn’t they deserve a chance at actually retiring and getting some peace? From the little I had gleaned from Robber over our journey south, I knew that goblins didn’t have long lifespans and that the only way out from the Matrons’ thumbs was to join the Dread Empire’s Legions of Terror.

“Isn’t that unfair though? Surely the humans get to retire and live it up,” I said, rejecting the notion that was all they wanted in life.

Borer shrugged almost imperceptibly. “What would we do with retirement Ma’am?”

“I dunno, what humans do? Play golf or something,” I suggested, fumbling for an idea.

“What’s golf?” Borer asked, his tone slightly interested.

“It’s a game old people play. They use sticks to hit balls really far away into tiny holes,” I explained and then realized that using sticks to hit balls was not really a helpful description.

“That sounds like something Senior Sapper Pickler might enjoy, if it used explosives. Is it fun?” he asked.

I conjured up the mental image of a goblin trying to play golf, the club alone being taller than they were. The imaginary goblins began jousting with the clubs and devolving into mock warfare as they failed to do more than putt the golf balls.

“...Not really. I think goblins would like rugby more. Or maybe pole vaulting.”

\---

“He does know we can see him, right?” Robber asked me in a stage whisper.

The man was a solid six feet tall, if not a bit more, and from what I could see underneath the myriad of pelts and leathers he wore, quite well muscled. He had that raw, chiseled lumberjack look only without the clothes. The axe though, he had.

“Look, we can see you. We’re not enemies, you can come over to talk instead of standing there,” I called out, avoiding using my swarm voice since that tended to be anything but reassuring.

The man hefted the axe slightly, not raising it fully, and called out in a deep voice, “You destroyed my home, there can be no parley with you.”

“What kind of forest savage knows what parley means?” Robber mocked from beside me.

I ignored Robber, answering back, “That wasn’t us, we’re just trying to get home.” It wasn’t, technically speaking, untrue.

“What? You think me daft? I saw you come from the ruins, with your army of spiders and your hostages,” he shouted back, still refusing to approach and make this a reasonably quieter conversation.

Robber click his tongue. “Daft now too? What, did Ranger run a grammar school there?”

I was tired of this, shouting at him, “It wasn’t us! It was some crazy villain we had been sent to kill. We don’t even know magic, how the fuck do you think we’d get a castle to fly?”

I blamed myself for not doing better, for not being prepared to handle the full extent of Diabolist’s crazy, but I sure wasn’t taking the blame for this entire thing. It hadn’t been my idea to launch a city into the sky. That had evidently been planned long before I even got there, given how quickly it took off.

“Wait...truly?” the man asked, looking uncertainly at us.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, truly. Do we look like we want to blow up random cities?”

He gestured out widely to the spiders I had besides me. “You control an army of giant spiders, forgive me for thinking you looked a tad Villainous.”

“I also control small ones,” I said, buzzing a fly past his ear for effect. “I just control insects. I happened to find some big ones is all.”

“You control insects?” he reiterated, seemingly wanting confirmation.

“Yeah. And small crustaceans I guess, but that was a lot less useful.”

Robber looked up at, full of betrayed dismay. “You mean we coulda been having crab fighting tournaments this whole time? You held out on us!”

The savage looking man’s demeanor changed, a slow smile growing on his face as he quickly crossed the forest clearing between us with confidence. I kept my swarm on guard, but if he was going to stop stalking us then I was happy enough. As he approached he gave a low bow from the waist.

“I am Beastmaster. Were you also orphaned and raised in the wilds? Sworn to protect the natural order from the ravages of mankind? My kindred spirit, truly it is fate that we have been brought together. With your bond with insects and my bond with animals, together we can protect nature without peer!” he declared with great grandiosity.

Robber quickly covered his own mouth, stifling the cackles that were leaking out of it and I decided to help him. A dozen flies dove between the gaps in his claws and he coughed, choking on the sudden influx of insects.

“That’s...uh, that’s nice. I’m just trying to get home though,” I fumbled, trying to adjust to his sudden fervor and the frankly alarming proximity.

He nodded vigorously. “I see. Where do you hail from?”

“Far away. Not from this continent,” I answered, trying to keep it vague.

“A mighty Named from a far off land, stuck on foreign shores. Fighting to protect the natural order even as she struggles to find a way home. I shall help you with your quest, naturally,” Beastmaster said, giving another, at least smaller this time, bow.

I put a hand up, the flesh was sore and oozing underneath the bandages but at least it didn’t crack with the motion anymore. “That’s okay. Really. I appreciate the offer, but don’t you have other responsibilities?”

The man cracked his neck and gave a small shrug. “I should report what happened to the Lady Ranger, but the best way to do that is to follow you.”

I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?” Robber was rolling on the ground beside me, trying to Heimlich himself on a rock, which thankfully he was as happy to ignore as I was.

“Well naturally she will be hunting down whoever destroyed Refuge once she learns of it. Since you slew the responsible party, she’ll certainly come to find you instead. I imagine it would be helpful to have me here to help explain such things when she arrives too. She can be a bit aggressive at times,” he explained with a quiet, calm confidence.

“You did slay the Villain, did you not?” he asked at the end. “And besides, I am the Beastmaster. With me besides you, your way out of the Woods will be much easier.”

I had my spider give a waggle of its leg. “Yes, she’s very dead.”

I didn’t like his logic, but it wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want some strange Named along with us, especially not one with such a weird fascination with my powers, but if Ranger did blame us for destroying Refuge, which I was partially responsible for, it might be useful to have him around to bail us out. I didn’t know how powerful this Ranger was, but if she had ruled over a city and impressed Robber, she had to be up there at least. More importantly, if he could call off all the strange animals attacking us then I could actually get these people somewhere safe in good time.

I dragged my hand down my face and gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, come along.”

“Excellent,” he said with visible cheer. “I assure you that we will have a great time of it.”

I was pretty sure we wouldn’t, but I kept that to myself for now.

A/N: Oh hey look, everything is awful over here too!


	42. 4.2 - Catherine

### 4.2 - Catherine

“The aftermath of the Harrowing Staircase was the first known case where a yellow letter was issued by the gnomes. For cases where the use of advanced technology is not disallowed, but is apparently considered to be very unsporting.”  
\- Excerpt from A Modern History of Calernia

My eyes struggled to open through the crust of ice that glued them shut. As I blinked away the broken shards of ice I saw a familiar mask staring down at me, the long braid of blonde hair fairly distinct, even to my muddled thoughts.

“The dumbass is awake!” she called out, drifting away from where I was resting.

I pushed myself up, my muddied mind quickly clearing as I recalled what had happened. The series of fights in my soul that had somehow happened all at once, taming the powers of the Butcher to my will. I didn’t reach out to see if they were still there, I could check on that gaggle of murderous hens in a bit.

I was half propped up on a couch of some sort, the fabric was similar to cotton, but softer and finer than what I typically associated with the material. It didn’t matter, but it impressed upon me how out of place I felt here still. The room was small, but extravagantly furnished. Another couch and a black obelisk of some sort across from me, as well as large windows that were currently covered by a thick black curtain. A table on the other side of the room was covered in notes and what looked like Masego’s reagents.

“I’ve never had to patch your soul together from quite so many pieces before, so if you’d like to confirm some of our passwords,” the man himself said as he strode into the room looking more annoyed than I was used to.

“Sing we of foe,  
Of victories won,  
And that first woe,  
Tyranny of the sun,” I recited. No one would think that I’d choose a Praesi verse as my key.

“Red the flowers, red the crown  
Red this day of bleak renown  
How soon they forgot Eleanor  
Along every oath they swore,” Masego recited back, his own half of the key.

“I’m disappointed, Catherine,” he continued as soon as he was satisfied with the passphrase. “This was reckless even by your standards. You did not trust me and so nearly killed us both.”

I balked slightly at that, though his disappointment stung deeper than I expected. “Myself maybe, but you would’ve been safe. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a gamble like that.”

Masego scowled. “No, I would not have been. You have always been the better of us at fighting and you, with your Mantle, gone mad and combined with the powers of the Butcher? No. I would have been hard pressed to escape, as would anyone else nearby. Your previous gambles have been risky, but balanced with the reward. This was not that.”

I sat back, stunned. Had I really taken such a risk? I had thought that I was keeping Masego safe, but he seemed to think I had put him at greater risk, not less. After seeing the madness of the Butchers for myself, I had to admit that I might’ve miscalculated. If one of those minds had won and taken control, things would’ve gotten...messy. Fuck, I might’ve actually made a bad gamble here, even if it had worked out alright.

I swallowed my pride, because in the end whether Zeze was right about the risk or not, I could tell I had hurt him. And that was something I truly did regret, regardless of everything else. Masego wasn’t good at showing his feelings for others, but that he cared enough to get angry showed me everything I needed.

“You’re right, I miscalculated. I’m sorry Zeze,” I said. “Tell me what happened while I was out?”

“I’m glad you understand. I was worried.” He sighed. “Every one of the parahumans near us simultaneously passed out briefly. I used the opportunity to remove you from the area. I brought Tattletale along because she seemed potentially important and we’ve been hidden in one of her apartments since. I’ve spent most of the time trying to stabilize your soul, which proved difficult when it shattered into fourteen pieces and waged metaphysical warfare on the Butcher’s soul.”

That cleared up a few important things, like where we were and why Tattletale had been watching me sleep. “That makes sense. In my vision I was split into fourteen copies, each one facing off against a Butcher or an empty room. I assume the empty rooms were parts that I broke with my Aspect.”

His anger quickly forgotten, Masego sat down across from me, listening intently. “I see. Only your soul would create the metaphysical equivalent of a fight club to deal with a parasitic invasion. I suspect the empty rooms were a combination of your Aspect and my own.”

My eyes went wide. “Then you…?”

He nodded. “I came into my second Aspect after seeing what you did to the Butcher. The Butcher was a person, but the powers that made them were part of something much larger. I was able to Witness a facet of it when you used your own aspect. The nature of these powers is not the same as ours, it’s more akin to a parasite.”

That was a disquieting thought. Normal parasites made me uncomfortable. I had seen what tainted food and the parasites it carried could do to a man, draining the life and vigor from a body until they were a pale shell of their former selves. Soul parasites were probably worse than that.

I didn’t ask what the Aspect was. There was a power in keeping that kind of information secret until the right moment. “Is my soul de-wormed then?” I asked instead.

Masego waggled his hand. “As much as it can be, given the circumstances. You still hold onto the Butcher’s power and as long as you do, there is a connection. Make no mistake, Catherine, whatever lies behind the powers here is not defeated so easily.”

Well wasn’t that just great. That certainly reeked of a Story too. There’d be another confrontation or sacrifice before this was settled then. Ancient horrors lying in wait that were initially beaten back always came back stronger and scarier. One option was to just give up on the powers I had stolen, but that felt like a trap. I wouldn’t get away so easily after grasping for unfathomable powers.

“This series of mind blowing revelations has been fucking fantastic for me too, after the migraines calmed down that is,” Tattletale chimed in, leaning on the doorframe with her shoulder. She still had a mask on, though she changed into what looked like more comfortable clothing, bright blue pants made of some rough fabric and a fuzzy long sleeved top. A shame, the costume had been nice to look at.

“You didn’t know?” I asked, frowning a bit.

Tattletale waved her hand around in the air. “There’s a mental block we have that prevents us from remembering certain things regarding how powers work. Once Zeze here pointed me in the right direction, I was able to make a work around, but my power is literally about knowing what I shouldn’t.”

“It’s true, the mental block is rather elegant in how it redirects attention. After the initial infuriating experience it was quite interesting to investigate, though I’ve made only minute progress,” Masego added, apparently not at all bothered by being called Zeze by her.

“That sounds awfully insidious. I’m not saying our powers are all rainbows and sunshine, but they generally don’t prevent our own awareness of things,” I said, immediately realizing that I had no way to ascertain the truth of that statement.

“Calm down, you’re right. Your version of powers doesn’t seem to have anything similar. It was the first thing we checked,” she said, pre-empting my entire train of thought.

That was a useful power, though I could see it getting annoying.

“For you, maybe. I never get tired of doing that,” she stated, smirking.

“Never mind, it already is. I’m amazed Masego put up with that for however many days I was out,” I replied bluntly.

Masego chimed in, “Actually it’s quite convenient having someone instantly understand your intent without having to articulate it. We were very productive.”

Tattletale smiled at me like a cat that had just caught a bird and I was starting to feel wary about her involvement. I didn’t know what she was buttering Masego up for, but I had the feeling that it wasn’t just to be as helpful as possible. Masego was learning, but he was still vulnerable to those more schooled in social manipulation. A power like hers, mind-reading or some sort of intuition I supposed, would be ridiculously useful for that.

Tattletale’s smirk simply grew sharper as she looked at me and damn it, she probably picked up my entire thought train there. Should I just go full Black on her right now?

“Hey now partner, no need to work yourself up into a tizzy. You want to go home and I want to get Skitter back. I think we have a lot we could gain from talking to each other, but let’s stick to the basics for now,” she said, putting her hands up.

Giving her more time to work on the both of us, undoubtedly. Or was I being too paranoid here? A lot of Black’s ideology struck home with me, but I wasn’t him. The casual cruelty and practical brutality he displayed weren’t me. Treating Tattletale like a threat right away wasn’t going to get us anywhere productive. I’d have to be wary of her, so much as a sniff of plotting from her was going to end with my boot on her neck if she was threatening to mess with Masego, but we could work together for now.

“Fine,” I said, pointing at her. “I’m assuming you picked up that just now, so you know the terms.”

She kept her hands up. “Hey, I’m not interested in fucking with you two. Just the opposite in fact. You can look at our powers without all the restrictions we have, and we have a bunch of knowledge and tech that you don’t. I see no reason we can’t be friends, or allies at least. Business partners if you really don’t like me.”

I wasn’t entirely on-board with opening trade relations with an entire alternate world, but it was naive of me to think that simply saying no was going to stop that. People here were aware of our world and that meant that they might be able to find a way over regardless of what I agreed to. Better to be in control of any connection than bury my head and hope that the technologically advanced world full of monstrous powered villains was going to leave us be. Yeah, better to be on top of this. It would certainly give me the kind of bargaining power with the Tower that I had bemoaned not having before.

I snorted, eyeing her. “Fine, we can deal for now.” I looked at the table full of notes and moved over to it, glancing at the stacks of hand written notes that looked to be a mix of Masego’s and Tattletale’s. “What’s up first?”

Tattletale pointed a finger at me. “Good question. First priority is not getting completely fucked by the PRT and Watchdog on this. Interdimensional trade is incredibly restricted and once they realize, if they haven’t already, that you two aren’t from Bet, there’s gonna be more heroes in this city than drug addicts. And those aren’t even the scariest people who might show up. If you could get over once, then that means we were close to making a connection and that’ll really interest them.”

“So we need to keep our heads down. Or is it more than that?” I asked.

She nodded. “You’ve already got the right idea. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. Given your stunt a few days ago and the part of the docks getting torched a cinder by that girl you brought through with you, thanks for that by the way, I’d be surprised if they don’t know already.”

Great. Well, out of the frying pan into the fire. Frankly, I’d be suspicious if things were magically better, given how the run of our luck usually went. Things getting worse was at least in line with how things tended to go.

“Its worse in that I was already in pretty deep shit before you showed up. A few more months of relative irrelevance with the Undersiders on the back foot and I’m pretty sure Cauldron was going to make me disappear anyway. This is just pushing our timeline up,” she stated grimly. I didn’t know what she meant by Cauldron, but presumably it was another faction in the city or nearby.

“More like a conspiracy involving the strongest heroes in the world to do a whole lot of bad shit on a planetary level,” she clarified. “Also the scariest people who might show up for you that I mentioned. Any of the Triumvirate show up and we’re basically fucked.”

Masego spoke, sounding irritated, “So you keep saying. There must be something we can do.”

“I have ideas, but frankly, we need to work together. I don’t know enough about your world, even after collaborating with Zeze, and you don’t know nearly enough about ours to make a comprehensive plan. There’s forces on both sides who I get the feeling would gladly kill us all to keep all this under wraps. They’re still tied up with your pyromaniac friend, so we have a few days to plan. I’m proposing we do exactly that,” she gestured to the table full of papers. The wall behind it had a few tacked onto a board, pieces of colored string connecting bits.

“Right, let’s get plotting then.”

\---

“First up, parties from either world who would this to take a shot at us. Let’s start with yours,” Tattletale stated, opening the floor as she drew out two columns on a whiteboard.

“Almost any kingdom in Calernia would go to war over a portal to here. Some to close it, others to exploit it. The gnomes would likely come down on it before anyone else. After that, I’d be concerned about this drawing out whatever old monsters are lurking around. Keter, maybe the dwarves. More than a few Named either Above or Below have kept in their back pocket. I can probably convince Black to keep Praes out of it,” I said, listing off the major players I could think of.

Masego hummed thoughtfully. “The Fae would be uninterested and are inevitably waning after the temporary loss of most of Summer’s nobles. The Elves are similarly uninterested in foreign affairs, especially a world full of non-elves. No small number of sorcerers would kill for access, but between myself and my fathers I think we could manage that.”

“Okay, so pretty much most of your continent then and probably a few hidden players besides?” she said, having just written on our side of the whiteboard ‘everyone except Black/elves/fae’.

“Sounds accurate,” Masego helpfully confirmed. Tattletale dragged a hand down her face and sighed.

“Well we knew we were fucked already. On the Bet side, Cauldron probably. The Protectorate, PRT, and Watchdog would want to regulate the hell out of it. On the villain side we’re actually pretty good. If we have Skitter back and lean on Accord a bit, we can cow most of them into playing ball. The Yangban might have a go at us, but they’ll be wary of stepping on the Protectorate’s toes. Our biggest concern is definitely the Protectorate and Cauldron, since the former is pretty deeply controlled by the other.”

“So almost our entire continent and then the largest group of powered on your world?” I asked rhetorically.

“Essentially, yes. Zeze’s mentioned your problems with gnomes and I may actually have an idea there…”

\---

“What do you mean any power?” I exclaimed, exasperated. “That’s bullshit. We can’t counter someone who can do anything. It’s literally his power, apparently.”

“You see the problem then. If Eidolon shows up, and he’s too much of a threat to hope he won’t, then we’re up shit creek without a plan,” Tattletale said, pointing to a crudely drawn sketch of the man with ‘fucker’ labelled over top in green sharpie.

“Could I use Take against him? I don’t know if it would work, thematically he’s not in line with me like the Butcher was, but could his power predict that?” I was struggling for an answer here. The man’s power was bullshit and as far as we figured, Stories wouldn’t be strong enough here to trap capes that could put distance between us and the link between worlds.

Tattletale shook her head. “Probably not. I don’t think his power is prepared for out of context problems, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it could handle that anyway. Our best bet is to attack the man behind the powers. If he wants to beat us, he can. We have to find an angle to make him want something else.”

“I assume he already has a kitchen or I would offer him one. These machines are fantastic,” Masego called from the apartment’s kitchen, through the doorway.

“Masego, are you making coffee again?” I called back, projecting my voice. I turned to Tattletale. “Is that much coffee safe?”

Tattletale laughed, leaning in to whisper, “I replaced it all with decaf two hours ago. He’ll be fine.”

I chuckled, leaning back in my chair again. Tattletale could be an insufferable asshole, but she wasn’t without merit.

\---

“You told me you replaced it with decaf!” I shouted, trying to pin the table down as it threatened to lift into the air along with most of the furniture.

“I did!” Tattletale screamed back, holding onto the doorframe as the rest of her body tried to float upwards.

“Then why is he freaking out?!” I demanded, resorting to pinning the table down with my body weight for the moment.

“He just said he had a headache, so I gave him some of my migraine pills-” she shouted back, cut off as she was pulled up and stuck to the ceiling.

I started floating off the floor and clawed at the table. “Fix it!”

\---

Tattletale sat against the fridge, cradling a bag of ice against her black eye.

“I’m not apologizing,” I said, folding my arms.

Tattletale looked up at me and raised her one eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of an asshole?”

The beat after her saying that was punctuated by the sounds of Masego vomiting in her bathroom. He was retching something fierce, though it was tapering off finally.

I looked at her with a glare. “We tell no one about this and quietly agree not to trade drugs or alchemy.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me that. Already there, Butch.”

I took a seat on the stool in the kitchen and we sat in mutual silence while Masego finished emptying his stomach.

A/N: Alternate title: Masego’s Sumatriptan Allergy


	43. 4.3 - Taylor

### 4.3 - Taylor

“The dwarves are a strange race, though valuing hard work as the highest of the personal virtues, they also do not balk at allowing others from doing their dirty work for them.”  
-Excerpt from the Almanac of Calernia by Javeed, the Chronicler

“I don’t care what this looks like. Do you want your people back or not?” I called out from my swarm clone atop a spider at the front of our formation.

Hagart, a senior officer in dark armor astride an armored warhorse sat with his arms folded. “You could be carrying a wagon full of gold and I still wouldn’t let you in. Do you take us for fools?”

I grumbled at my real body, far away from the negotiations. Beastmaster turned to look at me in concern, sitting astride his tiger. I was slightly jealous of his powers. My powers were far from the best, but I had managed to get a lot of mileage out of them. Still, I’d never look as casually cool as someone sitting atop a tiger eating a sandwich. The giant spiders were an upgrade at least from relying on Bitch to give me a ride.

“Problems, Skitter?” Beastmaster asked, mouth full of sandwich as he mumbled around it.

“Talking with your mouth full? You really are the king of beasts, you animal,” Robber said in feigned disdain. I assumed it was feigned, because I was pretty sure I had seen Robber do the exact same thing but with human flesh.

I waved them both off. “The city garrison is refusing us entry. Apparently they don’t trust the giant spider army.”

“Cowards. It’s not even an army anymore. More like a column,” Robber added in reply.

“Do you want me to talk with them in your stead? My Name is more well known in this country as being Heroic,” Beastmaster offered.

I focused on my swarm, looking at the walls of Dormer. The city was well defended, with archers and soldiers massed on the walls. I hadn’t brought these refugees dozens of miles on foot just to be stopped here. I also wasn’t invading another city, especially a nominally friendly one. I just had to convince them of that.

Focusing back on my swarm clone, I spoke, “Look, do you have a superior or something I can talk to? Is the Squire around?”

“No, and it would not matter if she were. This is a Legion. We have a chain of command to follow,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Well I want whoever is above you. I don’t want to take the city, you would know if I did, trust me,” I said, tired to my bones.

The man growled back, “That sounds an awful lot like a threat.”

“Yeah? Well you sound an awful lot like an asshole, but you look more like the inbred cousin of an unholy union between a badger and a man. Looks can be deceiving,” Robber said, having snuck up to the front.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Robber-” I started.

“A goblin? And what company did you desert, sapper?” Hagart said gruffly.

“That’s Special Tribune Robber of the Fifteenth Legion to you,” Robber said, puffing up his chest as he pulled his insignia out and chucked it at the man’s face.

The man hesitated, as he caught it, nearly too slow. “I’ll need to verify that.”

Robber had that smug, smartass look on his face. “You do that. And then you can explain why you left a Special Tribune and a Named personally appointed by Lord Black himself outside the city to wait...Ya know, if they sent you out alone to talk, you must be pretty replaceable.”

Hagart sputtered as he was stuck between acquiescing to demands he clearly had no way to verify and risking offending what sounded a lot like most of his higher command. I didn’t fully understand how inter-Legion ranking worked, but I trusted Robber to make a play that would work. Well, I didn’t, which is why I had started talks without him, but now that he was here I trusted him not to fuck it up worse. 

Probably.

\---

“I have to say, while I’m impressed by their dedication to you, is bringing the goblins along strictly necessary?” Beastmaster asked in a hushed voice. “Think of the Story. Two lone Named travelling across the land, complementary abilities. It’s a much tighter story than two Named and a ragtag bunch of goblins.”

I held up a hand, sticking a finger up. “First, they’ve saved my life several times now, I’m not just dropping them off in a random city. Second, they’re comic relief. That makes us even safer.”

Beastmaster stroked his beard in one hand thoughtfully. “Lady Ranger always had a great distaste for comedic Named, but I can’t deny your logic.”

“Third, they can still hear you probably,” I added, taking silent delight in the way his eyes suddenly went wide. He turned his head slightly and looked at Robber, who was polishing one of his blades. Robber simply gave him a tight smile with a small nod.

“Gods Above,” Beastmaster cursed under his breath.

I rolled my eyes and got back to work organizing my remaining spiders. I was desperate to get back to the former site of Liesse and retrieve the spiders I had left there. My remaining swarm had been severely cut down by weeks of attrition. Between sieging a city, fighting off fae and undead, taking a fortified keep, crashing a city, and travelling to Dormer, I had lost most of my original forces. I was far from undefended, but there was no point in crippling myself. Best to get my army back before I returned to Praes.

The fact that I didn’t know how long the hibernation orders would last was another factor. God, I had already trashed at least two cities in Calernia. The last thing I needed was the guilt of ruining a third. I had gotten the refugees to Dormer though. They were out of my hands and safe. I had saved someone at least. Not as many as I should’ve, but better than nothing.

Beastmaster was glancing over at me occasionally, I noted through my swarm. Probably impatient to get going before the goblins could start setting up pranks for him. We’d have to backtrack along the southern border of Callow to get to Liesse’s former location. I didn’t want to dip into that forest again. Minor deity my ass, Beastmaster. We were lucky it hadn’t taken a more serious interest in us, stupid nature Stories or not. I wasn’t here to play into nature versus industry conflict tropes. Hell, I had grown up in a city my whole life, I didn’t actually know much about nature.

We packed up and got moving. It was going to take at least a week and a half of hard spider riding to get to my hibernating reinforcements. In retrospect, if I knew how safe the hibernation was I would’ve seeded small pockets along my path for emergencies. Being able to drop a column of giant spiders on any unexpected trouble would be nice. It’s the kind of thing I would definitely set up in Brockton Bay if I was able to bring some back. The Dread Empire certainly was happy enough to get rid of them I felt.

Setting out from outside of Dormer, because while we had gotten the refugees in they still wouldn’t let me specifically in, we made good time. The goblins were light and easy to carry and Beastmaster’s tiger was clearly augmented by his Name with how it could leap and bound for hours. I was pretty sure tigers didn’t have that kind of endurance, but again, city girl. I didn’t actually have any concrete knowledge on what your average tiger could do except probably maul me.

We set down for camp for the night. While we could ride through the night easily enough with the night vision goblins had, we still needed sleep. I noticed the goblins were convening in a huddle, directing some of my airborn swarm to see what was up.

“-after we get back- Hey Boss, what’s up?” Robber said, quickly catching on to my swarm.

I buzzed through the swarm. “Nothing. Problems?”

He flapped his little grey-green hand. “Nah, no problems. Just figuring out some logistics. We’re not on loan to you forever, and we’re pretty much bottomed out for supplies. Need to hit up the Fifteenth again and check in.”

Right. It was easy to forget sometimes that they were on a mission. Once we were back in Praes, they’d probably head off and I wouldn’t see any of them again for months. If ever. Assassin had promised to help me get home if I took care of Diabolist. She was dead, so technically I had upheld my end of the deal. I was hoping he saw it that way too.

Still, I’d miss the little bastards if I did get to go home.

\---

Beastmaster moved his mount closer to me, riding up alongside me. The gentle plains of South Callow made for an easy journey, mostly farmland and grassy fields. Sun drenched plains with the occasional idle cloud rolling through the sky.

“A beautiful day, is it not Skitter?” he said, much as he had said for every day so far.

“It’s fine,” I replied tersely.

He gave me a friendly smile. “Heh, you’re much like Lady Ranger I think. Not a fan of small talk?”

I shrugged. “Never was much good at it,” I answered. Not like I had much practice in the last few years, between bullying and being a criminal warlord.

“Would you mind telling me about yourself a bit?” he asked. “I don’t want to bother you, but it is nice to know one’s travelling companions.”

I snorted. “What, don’t want to get Robber’s backstory?” I sassed.

Beastmaster let out a deep chuckle. “I prefer to retain what sanity I can hold onto.”

Hmph, he wasn’t totally without a sense of humor under that formal politeness. I supposed there was something to be said for trading some stories. It was the sort of thing that always happened in Stories and generally made the heroes stronger. Not that I was anywhere close to a classic hero.

“I was born in a city far away from here. Completely different in every way, really. There was a lot of crime that the heroes couldn’t handle, so I ended up getting powers and taking on the task of making the city better myself,” I summarized, carefully keeping mention of anything extradimensional out of it.

Beastmaster let out a gasp. “Truly? A city born girl learning the ways of nature to restore peace and the natural order to her home. An admirable goal. What was your home like?”

I rolled my eyes behind the makeshift mask I had assembled. My original had been so damaged from the fight with Diabolist that I had eventually given up on repairing it and made a new one fresh. The black carapace of the giant spiders had proven a suitable material to use together with the salvaged lenses. The sharper angles and harder features made it a bit more villainous than my last one, but that seemed to be a pattern with my costumes. 

“It was a city like any other. We sat on the ocean, but trade had been bad for years, so a lot of the city was run down. It rained a lot, got annoyingly cold in the winter. It’s been dying slowly over the last twenty years I guess. It’s still home though,” I answered, not really knowing how to describe it to someone else.

He nodded thoughtfully, giving a hefty pause before speaking. “That’s difficult to live through. My home, we were fortunate sons and daughters in the south of Procer. A small, prosperous farming village. It’s still there, last I heard, as idyllic as ever. The fortunes of being in a prosperous country on a peaceful border.”

“So you were born a farmer then? Not like, an animal handler or something?” I asked in return.

He laughed again, shaking his head with his long, but not unkempt, mane of dark hair. “No, just the son of the most typical farmers you could imagine. But the Heavens have plans for us all, no matter how small or insignificant we might seem at the time.”

Oh boy, interdimensional religion. I wasn’t touching that with a thirty three and a half foot pole. I’d probably end up accidentally blaspheming something or someone. Considering the gods here actually existed to some degree, that seemed risky.

“How did you become Named then? Or is that a secret?” I asked, watching him closely through the many eyes of my mounts.

“No, no secret. I always had an affinity for animals. One day a cockatrice showed up and attacked our farm. I was only a boy, but when I heard the sadness in the beast’s cries, I had to act. That was the first time I felt the call of my Name,” he explained.

I sat there on the back of my spider, soaking in the story, or Story, as he continued. He spoke of how the cockatrice had been injured by hunters, but in its rage mistook his farm for their abode. How he had guided it far from the village, but lost his memory from the cockatrice’s stare and his way home. Apparently their gaze was as deadly here as in the old myths, but he had been protected, only losing part of himself. Learning of how some of their village had been poaching far too heavily in the nearby forests, throwing the balance of nature out of whack, he had vowed to protect the beasts of the forest. That was when Ranger found him. It was a story as old as time, one I could’ve seen in any theater coming this spring or something.

He stopped and looked at me, waiting patiently. I supposed he wanted me to share my own coming into power. I wasn’t exactly keen to, the memory stung far less harshly than it once had, but it wasn’t a pleasant memory to look back on. He had been patient, helpful, and only slightly pushy. I glanced over at him, noticing he rode and waited with arms folded, his muscular legs allowing him to forgo the need for reigns.

“My tale isn’t particularly glorious or cinematic. It started with a best friend and a betrayal…”

Beastmaster listened, occasionally chimed in, and never judged. Before I knew it, it was dusk and we pitched camp for the night. I found the bright night sky of Calernia rather pleasant to fall asleep under.

\---

“Aaaaaagh!”

The cry of horror and surprise woke me immediately, my swarm coalescing around us defensively. I located Beastmaster, a cry that deep could’ve only come from him, and the goblins weren’t within my immediate swarm. Through the swarm I saw him struggling, pulling at his clothes as furry lumps darted in and out of view beneath them. To my swarm sense he smelled delicious, like he was coated in pure sugar.

After struggling for a moment he managed to grab one of the furry lumps and pull it out, holding a weasel by the tail with honey covering its muzzle. Deftly he managed to grab the other two in turn, releasing them onto the ground as he shooed them away. They looked disappointed, but reluctantly heeded his orders.

“Are you okay? What happened?” I asked through the swarm, slightly relaxed now that I knew we weren’t under attack.

He was panting, face red, night shirt dishevelled and half hanging off of his muscular frame.

“They...somehow covered me in Limbaen Honey. It’s...irresistible to weasels,” he said, heavy breaths slowing his normally graceful cadence.

“Ah,” I replied. That was all I really had to offer. I wasn’t sure what else could be said.

Beastmaster furrowed his brow. “Where did they even find it? It only can be found in the wildlands of Levant…” he muttered to himself.

I walked over with my real body, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “They’re literal creatures of Evil incarnate. It’s best not to ask. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I guided Beastmaster over to the stream we had camped near, giving him some vague reassurances as to the evilness of goblins before leaving him alone to wash up. It took longer than I expected, apparently the honey was incredibly sticky and difficult to remove. He came back with half his chest and arm hair missing and angry red welts in its place.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that the goblins magically reappeared. I gave Robber a glare and a roll of my eyes as he did his puppy eyes, which again only made him look even less innocent. Little bastard knew it too. I usually looked the other way, but Beastmaster wasn’t a bad guy. I needed to have a talk with them about appropriate levels of escalation for pranks. It reminded me just a bit too much of some of the shit I had gone through at Winslow.

The day turned around though when we came across a small farmstead. I had proposed we simply give it a wide berth, but Beastmaster had made the valid point that the column of spiders silently going around the farm was likely more distressing than us quickly dropping by. Given how far you could see in the fields around here, we would’ve had to detour a fair bit to not be noticeable at all.

I watched Beastmaster head straight up to the wooden house, knocking on the door. A nervous looking man with a farmer’s build and a longsword answered the day, creaking it open slightly. He was dressed in work clothes and what looked like a hastily assembled padded vest.

“Good day, good sir. I understand that this may look distressing to you, but I would like to reassure you that we are two Named on a quest. No ill fortune will befall your farm,” he declared in what was, I had to admit, a fairly heroic delivery.

The man hesitated, clearly not sure what to make of the large beefy man accompanied by a tiger or the girl riding a giant spider in front of a column of other giant spiders.

“Er, thanks, I suppose. Was that all or-?” the farmer replied.

Beastmaster nodded. “Of course. Though we wouldn’t say no to buying some supplies from you, if you are willing to trade. Fresh milk perhaps? I noticed you keep cattle and rations get a bit dry the longer you travel.” He flashed a disarming smile.

The farmer relaxed just slightly, pausing again before giving a nod in return. “Could do, could do. If you’ve got the coin that is. Not exactly a noble’s manor here.”

I had to respect a man demanding fair payment from a horde of spiders. Callowans were more stubborn than was good for them.

Beastmaster chuckled lightly and smiled again. “I wouldn’t dream of shorting you a single copper.” He gestured back to me. “I’m sure my companion would agree.”

“Some milk would be nice,” I ventured. Then, adding in, “I could remove all the bugs from your house. Uh, because I do bugs.” I stumbled slightly, not sure how to even begin to explain my power in a way that would make sense to a random Callowan farmer.

The farmer just nodded slowly, still a bit suspicious, and Beastmaster clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Skitter, do you have any Imperial coinage, by chance?”

The spider that Robber was riding on bucked suddenly, tossing him off. Two more jumped on him, quickly mugging him and taking the coins I knew he was keeping with him. I hadn’t exactly been paid at any point yet and he owed me anyway for this morning.

I hummed for a moment. “As it so happens, I do.”

\---

We were a few hours away from the farm when Beastmaster paused, frowning.

“I feel magic gathering around us,” he declared suddenly and I drew my swarm in from scouting around us.

A slice of light appeared in the air, expanding out into a circle that quickly grew frost along the edges. The rim of frost smoked and snapped as a picture of an icy field came into view. I recognized the portal for what it was instantly and stepped back into my swarm, obscuring myself and setting up swarm clones. Beastmaster and the goblins both took flanking positions. I had expected Robber and company to blend in better than Beastmaster, but I supposed blending into nature would be part of his deal.

A Korean looking woman with sharp, elven features in a long ochre cloak stepped out._ Looks like the kind of killer Lung would recruit. Not just because she looks Asian, I mean. I’m not racist, agh, fuck._ A man wearing what looked to be silken robes both stepped out from the portal as it remained fixed behind them, waiting beside her. She looked at my swarm, piercing dark eyes scanning across it lazily. I hugged the ground behind one of my giant spiders, keeping them all still to not give away my position.

I followed my companions with the bugs I had on each of them. The woman scanned the area and her eyes stopped right as she looked at Beastmaster’s hiding spot. I could feel him shift under her gaze.

“Rex, stand up already. I can see you crouching right there like an idiot,” the woman said.

Beastmaster, Rex I supposed, stood up. “Lady Ranger? What are you doing here?” he asked in obvious surprise.

The woman, Ranger it seemed, flipped her hood back as she stared at my swarm. “Looking for Wekesa’s little bug girl.” She changed her voice, projecting towards my swarm of small bugs filling the air and giant spiders clustered about. “Now because he’s been a dear, I won’t walk in there and drag you out. Don’t test my patience though.”

Beastmaster looked back and forth between her and my swarm. I could feel Robber making cutting motions to his throat, trying to indicate something bad? Beastmaster raised a hand, waving exaggeratedly at my swarm.

“Skitter, it’s okay, come out! Really, it’s best not to keep her waiting,” he called out.

Yeah, come out and face the woman whose town I had sunk underwater. The way she half stalked by the portal reminded me of a predator. Despite her only moderate stature and generally lithe frame, I felt like I didn’t want to take my eyes off her for even a moment. She didn’t seem pissed though. Just impatient. She had a massive bow, nearly her own height, slung across her back and a set of long knives strapped to her thighs. 

“Duckling, you know her?” Ranger asked idly.

Beastmaster nodded, turning to her. “I do, we’ve travelled together for some time now.”

A bit of an exaggeration, but if he was bailing me out, I was fine with that.

“Then you’ve got a minute to get her out here,” she said, pulling out a pipe and holding it out to the man next to her, who rolled his eyes and lit it with a snap of his fingers.

As Beastmaster turned to shout into my swarm again, I stood up. Ranger was still lazily smoking her pipe, but I saw her eyes snap to my position the moment I stood up. Even though she shouldn’t have been able to me through the swarm. Robber had said she was dangerous, the most dangerous around. I’d have to be careful.

“You’re looking for me apparently?” I said, stepping to the front of my swarm. Not fully emerging as I had the black cloud of insects wreath around me. Giant spiders flanking me for support in the event it was necessary.

“Yup. Nice show you’ve got there kid. Now come along, Wekesa will fill you in,” she jabbed a thumb rudely at the man beside her.

He gave a small nod to me, taking a deep breath as he glanced at Ranger. “Amadeus has mentioned you. I’m the Warlock. We’ll be taking a shortcut back to Ater. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Skitter, as I guess you know.” I stood my ground, looking to Ranger, who had already turned back to head towards the portal. “I need to collect the spiders I left outside of Liesse.”

“Don’t care,” she answered off handedly, setting the hairs on the back of my neck off. I didn’t like her. “Weks, using Mizean rituals for this?”

“I’m not sure whether to be offended by that being wrong or that you know enough to know that’s grossly inaccurate,” he sniffed. “But to answer your underlying question, yes.”

Beastmaster looked worried, glancing back and forth between Ranger and myself. His stance was wide, almost ready to fight, but not quite committing to it. Like he wanted to show he was uneasy, but wasn’t willing to act on it.

“We can have you back sooner than if you had continued on your journey. While Ranger’s gates are not particularly stable, safe, or in any way a good example of the craft, they will get us around rather quickly,” the Warlock offered, beleaguered.

It seemed to be either going with them or picking a fight with an unknown quantity that everyone else was tiptoeing around. I frowned, stepping forward and signalling Robber and co. to follow. Beastmaster practically wilted as his stance relaxed and he fell in ahead of me, not quite next to Ranger. I wasn’t going to let her walk over us like that, but we were all low on supplies and tricks. And if she wanted to bring me back to Ater? Well, that was a quick way to replenish my forces.

\---

“Are we there yet?” Robber asked helpfully up to Warlock, for the fifth time.

The man glanced down at Robber, swiped his fingers like he was unlocking a phone, and continued walking. I watched Robber feel at his mouth, which seemed to have an invisible piece of magic tape covering he. He pawed at it, not with panic, but curiousity. I could see the malicious grin underneath too. Gods, was even Warlock not enough to keep him in check?

I tried my hand instead, stepping up besides the man. Beastmaster had stayed by Ranger since she had arrived, occasionally shooting a reassuring look back at me, which was anything but reassuring.

“What should I expect when we reach Ater?” I asked him.

Warlock didn’t turn to answer. “Amadeus will be there to meet us, he wanted to meet you if possible. Though I’m sure the chance to see Ranger was not lost on him. As for yourself, very little will be needed from you except a small amount of focus.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “For?”

“For the ritual Ranger requires of me. We need a strong sympathetic link to your plane. The strongest of which is yourself, particularly you thinking of said plane. This aligns not just your corporeal form, but also your mind. With a link that strong we can expect that an alignment of the planes will be possibly, at which point a connection can be made in layman’s terms,” he said, as disinterested as if he were reading off a menu.

I wondered what his beef was. Was it just because Ranger was dragging him around or did he not like me for some reason?

“Ah,” I said, realizing something. “That’s why she asked what you needed me for. She wanted to know if you needed me alive.”

He turned slightly, his eyes flashing with a spark of interest. “Astute. Yes, she’s not usually patient with those she considers weaker than her.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I’ve noticed patience isn’t one of her virtues. Nor many other things.”

The woman had set a tough pace, not bothering to answer me beyond a few curt words. Even Beastmaster seemed to be more at her heel than a companion. She had only stopped once, firing off an arrow into the horizon at nothing I could discern. Otherwise we simply had a view of her back, too aloof to even walk next to us.

“It would be wise not to antagonize her. While Black wants you alive, that has not been enough to stop her before,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“A lot of people have thought they could take me,” I replied just as monotonally. “What about you? What do you want?”

Warlock took a deep breath in, chest expanding out. “I want to be left back with my experiments. I want to study the transdimensional stranger in a prepared laboratory, not cart her back for Ranger to run off with. I want a great many things, all of which it appears I will not be getting, except for my son back.” He let out the great breath. “But that will be enough.”

Huh. That sure was something. So he wasn’t angry at me, just angry that he wouldn’t get to study me. A bit weird, but I could at least kind of understand where he was coming from now. It didn’t mean he had to be almost as aloof as Ranger, but to his credit he did answer questions.

It ended up being a long walk.

\---

“So let me get this straight,” I said, trying my level best not to look around the macabre room that we were in. Apparently the skulls of various species helped attune the room or some such. “Ranger wants to hunt some Fae queen, but you think this Fae got sent to my world, and so you need to make a portal there. Also Apprentice you think may have ended up there and Warlock wants to go get him. And you could’ve done this the whole time I was fucking stuck here?”

“Pretty much,” Ranger said blithely. She leaned against one of the walls painted in what looked like blood on black obsidian, looking bored for all the world. It was just the four of us, her included, in the ritual room Warlock had been using in the Tower.

“No, not pretty much,” Warlock corrected. “Without the artefacts Ranger supplied, crafting such a gate, as it’s more akin to a bore in Creation, would’ve taken me months. Circumstances have conspired to make it substantially easier than it would normally be.”

“Hm. Okay,” I replied. “And there’s no problem if I go through? You did promise to send me home.”

“No problem,” The Black Knight, a pale and unassuming man in undecorated plate, said. “You said you ended Diabolist and the others corroborate your story. You can even take as many spiders as you can fit through before it collapses.” The last part he ended with a sharp smirk.

I wasn’t much of a fan of Warlock or Ranger, but meeting Black hadn’t been all bad. He seemed to have a sense of humor that wasn’t just sadistic like the other two. It had sadism in it, but there was more than just sadism, so I could put up with him.

“Just like that, huh?” I said. “Warlock makes the portal, Ranger and he go through. Then I go through and wait for Warlock before I pull as many spiders in as I can? Doesn’t that seem too clean?”

They had me keeping the spiders outside the Tower still. The room was on a low floor, low enough I could reach the sewers with my power to mass a fair portion of the colony beneath the city. There were concerns my power might not cross the portal so filling the room with giant magical spiders had been vetoed for reasonable concerns.

Black chimed in dryly, “Perhaps finishing the Diabolist off was the necessary Story to finish your arc here and now Creation is done with you. Few get such a clean, happy ending. Don’t hesitate to take it.”

It was a bit of a gut punch to realize I could be going home in a few minutes. I hadn’t gotten to say a proper goodbye to Robber and Borer. I hadn’t gotten to talk to Beastmaster again since Ranger had shown up. I wouldn’t get to meet the Squire or Apprentice again unless I happened to see them before Warlock took them home. But then, the plan was to wait for Warlock to locate them so if I overloaded the gate, it wouldn’t strand them on the wrong side. Apparently Ranger was being left to her own devices to get back.

I gave a nod though. Despite having made a few new friends here, mostly of the small explosive kind, I had a team to get back to. I had people that relied on me and a city still recovering from both Leviathan and the Slaughterhouse Nine. I needed to go home.

“Okay. I’m ready,” I answered. I knew it wouldn’t hurt. They didn’t need my flesh or anything. Just me, here and breathing.

Warlock stood over a magical array that hurt my eyes to look at directly, leaving me looking at the wall past him. “Simply think of your strongest memories of your home. Smells, in particular, tend to evoke strong memories.”

I closed my eyes, imagining the smell of Brockton in winter. The particular taste the air had before snow fell over the city. The faint smell of burning fireplaces and the metallic tint from the radiators turning on. The way the city smelled like wet dog when the slush melted, when garbage soaked through with melting snow. The way the sea smelled through the different seasons, stronger in the heat of summer and gentle when it calmed in the winter.

“**Link**,” Warlock said and I felt myself extended into something else, something incomprehensible and esoteric.

I focused on my memories of home. The neighborhoods I had taken over after we had finally been freed of Coil. The memory of rallying people together, organizing them, giving them hope for the future. To work towards another day. The adults who had lost their jobs, the children who had lost families.

“**Imbricate**,” Warlock said. I didn’t open my eyes, but I could see through the small bugs I’d brought with me that the room shimmered. The spell circle in the middle clashing with a violent array of colors exploding out.

I remembered my friends. Brian, who had grown distant after what Bonesaw had done to him. No longer our pragmatic leader, but a more withdrawn, traumatized shell of himself. Alec, as snarky and flippant as ever, though he had gotten a bit more of a biting edge after Cherish while also becoming more helpful. Rachel, who had gone from the person who liked me the least on the team to being the one most likely to have my back. Willing to sacrifice the dogs she loved so much for me. And Lisa-

A loud metallic knocking interrupted my thoughts. I looked with my swarm and saw Black scowling as he held out a hand to stop Ranger, who had begun to pull one of her blades. Warlock looked up, beads of sweat running down his face as he stood over the array that was now more than just an array. The door swung open and a man in Legion uniform leaned against it, sweating. Black looked at him expectantly.

“Lord Black, the dwarves…” the man gasped. “The dwarves are here.”


	44. 4.4 - Catherine

****

###  **4.4 - Catherine**

  
  
“There’s a reason Alexandria stands among the Triumvirate and would have always stood among the Triumvirate, regardless of her powers. Where Legend is charismatic and inspiring, and Eidolon aloof and mysterious, she is indomitable. Failure simply has never been an option for her and it never will be. If anyone stands at the top of parahuman kind, it is Alexandria.”

  * Excerpt from Capes and Capers: An Analysis of the Most Influential Parahumans

  
  
Tattletale leaned over the kitchen table, hands pushing aside scribbled notes and photocopies of documents as she looked at us with bloodshot eyes and a manic grin. Documents and maps of PRT patrol routes to Watchdog protocols to gang territories and more. Masego and myself stood to either side of the table, looking at her expectantly in return.  
  
“Okay, so here’s the plan.”  
  
  


\---7 Hours Earlier---

  
  
“So what do you think is your equivalent to wakeleaf?” I asked.  
  
“Hard to say. Sounds a bit like a mix of weed and caffeine to me. Kind of like tobacco as well, but from your description it acts more like a combination of the other two,” Tattletale responded.  
  
Masego sighed pointedly from his bag chair made of beans.  
  
“Maybe we need to rethink the drug trade ban…” I mused.  
  
Masego straightened up from his indulgent lounging, sternly voicing, “No.”  
  
Tattletale shot a finger gun at him. “Best we hold off on that. Not that I’d mind getting my foot in the door first, but-”  
  
Conversation stopped as Tattletale’s phone rang. Now that was a device I wanted to get my hands on. Instant communication irrelevant of distance? Praes, and Callow by extension, already had a significant advantage given our mages’ superior scrying capabilities. To have that kind of communication ability would revolutionize warfare logistics, which was probably an even better reason for not having it. That kind of imbalance would spin off a dozen different Stories, not even getting into the issues it might cause with gnomes, dwarves, and other advanced civilizations.  
  
“Okay, I’ll buzz you in,” Tattletale replied over the phone, walking over to her door and pressing some buttons to the side of it.  
  
It was funny, I mused, how quickly we had adjusted to the luxuries here. Masego has learned how the coffee machine worked and was using it daily. I was quite taken with the luxury of central heating. Sure, we had both pressed some buttons we shouldn’t’ve, but considering the differences we had adapted rather quickly. I had to wonder if that was because of a wind in our sails here. Adapting to a new world wasn’t a Story I was familiar with, but it certainly could’ve been one. Stories didn’t tend to have useless downtime and us fumbling with how buttons worked for a month wouldn’t have fit the current stakes.  
  
Maybe I was overthinking it, maybe it was just that Masego had always been good at adapting to the unknown and I wasn’t half bad at it either. If I had brought Ratface or Aisha over they might’ve had that extra trouble. Even then, I was being unfair to them. Both had rolled with the punches at every turn for Rat company and later the Fifteenth. No one in our orbit was really all that inflexible.  
  
The door opened as Tattletale let in her fellow villains. We had only briefly been introduced before being sequestered away in her apartment for most of a week. There was the tall, dark skinned man named Grue. The slighter, pale boy with the disinterested gaze, Regent. A well built woman with a blockish face, named Bitch. And then the other two I had only really heard about in advance. Parian and Foil, who hung back a bit from the rest of the group.  
  
Regent plopped down on the couch across from Masego, sprawling over it, as the two mutually ignored each other. Grue, Parian, and Foil all headed for the table as Bitch sat on the other arm of the couch. We were roughly gathered around, even if half the group looked like they didn’t want to be here.  
  
“You guys get here alright?” Tattletale asked as she gathered her stuff up.  
  
Grue shrugged. “Well enough. City’s locked down pretty tight.”  
  
“How sure are we that Watchdog is involved?” Foil asked, a nervous tint to her voice.  
  
“Ninety-eight percent,” Tattletale replied grimly. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been made. That fight at the Boardwalk? If they didn’t know before, they know now. They’re waiting to see our next move, but if we take too long, they’ll pin us down. We’re on the clock.”  
  
“So what’s the next step? We lay low?” Grue asked, sounding worn out.  
  
Bitch spoke up, “We need to get Skitter back.”  
  
“Problem is,” Tattletale quickly replied. “We don’t know where she is.”  
  
Bitch looked over at me, glaring. “You said these two do. Just ask them.”  
  
I turned my hands over and shrugged at the group. “We knew where she was a few months ago. She could be anywhere by now. I’m sure we could find her once we got back, but it might take awhile.”  
  
“Which means the portal either has to stay open or be re-openable,” Tattletale concluded. “Both of which make us one big fucking target. We already upped the ante, if one of the Triumvirate isn’t here already, I’ll eat my shoe.”  
  
Regent looked over at us, his head upside down and lolling off the side of the couch. “Now I want you to be wrong just so I can see that.”  
  
“I want her to be wrong so we’re not up shit creek,” Grue grumbled in return.  
  
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but is this really worth it?” Parian said, finally speaking. The doll themed mask not moving as she spoke, white porcelain covering her entire face. “Skitter was very practical, would she even want us attracting this much attention to find her?”  
  
Bitch turned, her shoulders hunched up as she stared Parian down. “She would come for us.”  
  
The doll girl drew back, looking away, Foil taking her place and glaring back at Bitch in return.  
  
“Would she?” Regent mused, still half hanging off the couch. “I was about to say Parian’s got a point, but actually, Skitter probably is stubborn enough to take the Triumvirate on.”  
  
“Fact is, we need her back,” Tattletale said, putting her foot down. “We’re not going to hold this much turf without her and we’ve already attracted a lot of attention. We start showing weakness now and we’re going to get torn apart. That’s why I want us to work with Squire and Hierophant here.”  
  
Masego lazily raised a hand to indicate that he was one of those two and I just sighed slowly.  
  
“First, tell me you have news on the Summer Queen. You know, the one that they so helpfully dropped in our lap and nearly killed us. The one that nearly toasted me. That one.” Tattletale shot me a look.  
  
_Okay, still bitter about that._  
  
“Nothing on the street or from Faultline’s Crew,” Regent answered.  
  
Foil half stepped forward before speaking. “PRT has been quiet ever since the incident before the Butcher fight. More patrols are out, but they don’t seem to be expecting trouble.”  
  
“Which means they’ve handled her somehow,” Tattletale concluded, cutting her off. Foil looked mildly annoyed, but didn’t speak up.  
  
“Speaking of the Butcher, are we sure Squire is safe?” Grue asked, turning the black helmet with the painted skull my way.  
  
Masego projected his voice over from his throne of decadence, “Were she not, you would not be in a state to be concerned over it. The working will hold, although while I have cautioned her against testing it excessively that didn’t seem to stop her last time.”  
  
I flashed him a perfectly innocent smile that got no reaction back from him, but had Regent snorting in amusement. Well, at least someone here had the good taste to humor me.  
  
“She’s safe enough,” Tattletale added. “And also our Trump card.”  
  
Everyone stared at her, the deadpan expressions universal across the room.  
  
Masego chipped in again, “If that was a pun, it was bad.”  
  
“Holy shit and I thought my puns were bad,” said a new voice. I spun, taking a look and-  
  


***

  
“I’m surrounded by philistines,” Tattletale huffed. “Anyway, here’s the deal. We need to get Scrub, Labyrinth, and Hierophant together and buy them enough time to work on making a portal. We’re assuming high level Thinker involvement, so we’ll be laying down multiple threads of misdirection. The ultimate goal is getting the portal open, because we can fall back through it and use the rules change to counter anyone we can’t beat here. Our unique advantage is we have people who are strong in both worlds. As long as we pick our fights well, we can leverage that.”  
  
I nodded along, it was a sound plan as far as I could tell. We were likely outnumbered on both sides, but the idea was to make the portal into Callow or Praes if possible. There we could have a reasonably good home territory advantage in defending the Calernian side and the Undersiders would do the same with the Bet side. Either side could retreat back and make a push again with their favored set of rules, making taking permanent control of the portal from our alliance difficult.  
  
I wasn’t sure if it would work so smoothly in practice, well I was almost certain it wouldn’t, but it was worth a shot. Masego and I needed to get home; Callow was a sharper ready to go off. Skitter needed to get home as well. We had promised Tattletale a collaboration with Masego to investigate the source of the powers on Bet. Tattletale had promised a possible solution for the inevitable red letter we’d get.  
  
Beyond those very practical goals, I had realized there was even more we could get out of this. Stories held limited sway here, mostly around the portal and even then it was very volatile. Someone doomed for death in Calernia could simply cross the portal and if they maintained enough distance, break off the Story that hung over their head. We had what was effectively a way to cull Stories at our discretion. That, more than anything else, was what would get Black on board with this. The cycle of Stories that forced Creation to follow the same destructive patterns could be broken. The tool he had spent decades trying to forge himself was here.  
  
“I’ll be telling everyone their part separately and having you go out separately. Full infosec shit here so we can stop those fuckers in Watchdog from reading our bluffs. We nail this and we not only get Skitter and these two fuckers home, we also get to be the lynchpin to interdimensional relations with a world completely different from ours. None of these lowkey Aleph imports, this is world shaking stuff. We’ll have a position to negotiate with anyone we want. This is it folks, we nail this and it’s nothing but the big leagues from here on out.”  
  
“What if we don’t give a shit about any of that?” Regent asked sardonically.  
  
“You’ll have as many fucking game consoles as you can find,” Tattletale replied seamlessly.  
  
“You son of a bitch, I’m in.”  
  
  


\---The Present---

  
  
Tattletale pointed to a map, speaking quickly. “Masego and I will be meeting with Labyrinth and Scrub in the basement of Charlie’s Chicago Chili Cheese Steaks. You’ll be accompanying us from a distance and running interference. If they’ve got any big hitters in reserve, we’ll rely on you to keep them busy.”  
  
I looked at the map. It was a decent distance to our rendezvous point, but I assumed we’d be going by car. I hadn’t gotten to ride inside one yet, but they went far faster than a horse. That distance was maybe a bell or two by horse. Not much time at all inside the metal contraptions that they used here.  
  
“My reagents have been accounted for I assume?” Masego asked.  
  
“Already in the car. We got everything we could within the time limit. It’ll be up to us to make it work,” she said.  
  
Masego frowned slightly, but nodded. “I would’ve preferred to have had more time to get proper readings, but you’ve both sufficiently impressed on me the urgency of our situation. I believe we’ll be able to get the portal up or, at the least, determine we don’t have the necessary components quickly enough that we can change tack.”  
  
Tattletale took her pistol off the table, sliding it into the thigh holster she kept attached to her costume. She slid the other over to Masego, who inspected it through the blindfold with an amused look before carefully stowing it inside his robes. I would’ve hesitated before on letting him get too much of a look at the technology here, but at this point a red letter was inevitable. We were going to have to count on our alliance with the Undersiders to handle what was coming. Just like they were going to have to count on us. Funny, how it took going across worlds to finally get people working together.  
  
Tattletale finished packing up her gear into the belt she wore and looked around the apartment. Runes glowed on the walls, the result of the last few hours. Masego’s hurried work was more potent than the careful ministrations of most mages.  
  
“Fuck. I really liked this apartment too. Nothing for it now, let’s go.” She waved us towards the door, giving one longing glance back at the apartment.  
  
  


\---

  
  
It was an injustice, I thought. A minor one, but an injustice all the same. Masego, who was not only blind, but entirely unappreciative of physical aesthetic, got to ride with Tattletale and her purple costume. I got to drive with a man named Keith, who while not unattractive, was not wearing a form fitting costume and also was stoically avoiding engaging in conversation with me.  
  
Whatever. I was getting one for Killian when all of this was sorted out anyway.  
  
The car rolled along the street at speeds that I had found made me rather nauseous if I didn’t look out the front windows. It was an SUV I was told, whatever the hell that meant, but supposedly it was tougher than the standard car. Which was good, because the car rocked at that moment, an explosion one street over from us that was visible over the buildings between us and it. Part of Tattletale’s plan, I hoped.  
  
The driver swerved to avoid a hole in the road. The streets here were in surprisingly poor repair even compared to the ones I was used to in Callow. Some had long furrows carved into them or were restricted to one way passage by debris. It was odd to me, seeing a city so far ahead of anything we could make that was also in worse repair than many of ours. It felt wrong, like if people had figured out how to get this far that they shouldn’t be struggling with basic tasks like keeping roads repaired.  
  
Perhaps technology wasn’t the panacea it seemed to be, it had done little to save the people here from infighting. It was stupid to discount it entirely though. Everyone here had indoor plumbing, heating, and a better selection of food than most nobility. Medicine here was leagues above what we had. Not needing to rely on priests for severe injuries would save thousands of soldiers over the course of a campaign.  
  
I wasn’t the kind of person who was qualified to make the decision over what or how much to try and bring over, but then who was? Malicia? Gods no. Black? He was smart, but he had his blind spots as well. I couldn’t think of anyone with the forethought to be the authority we needed. I doubted that anyone with it existed. When there wasn’t a perfect answer, there was a good enough one. Well, good enough pretty much described my entire career until now. It wouldn’t absolve me of whatever horrors this inevitably spawned, but I was fine with that.  
  
This was a risk, but it was one I wouldn’t take alone. The bitter thought of Masego correcting me over the last risk I took came to mind. None of us was the perfect authority for this, but I could consult them. Get as much input as I could from trusted sources. I’d be better about these things.  
  
The car rocked again, this time swerving as a cloud of pure darkness started to creep across the street. We barely moved around the spreading cloud before it engulfed the street behind us. Keith drew in a sharp breath, but otherwise kept his composure. I was mildly impressed, training infantry lines not to scatter under mage fire was difficult. This man clearly had similar training to react to the powers here without panicking.  
  
A sound crackled and blared from the center of the front of the car. “Butch, this is Tattletale. We’re almost there, but Faultline’s Crew is running behind. It’s gonna be spicy.”  
  
I spoke back, “Got it.”  
  
Keith pressed a button and spoke, “She copies.”  
  
Ah, so it didn’t just magically know when I was speaking. There was a button. That made sense. But then phones didn’t have a button when it was your turn to speak. What was the difference with this one? Was it because it was part of the car?  
  
The car whipped around a corner and I clutched at my seatbelt to avoid bumping against Keith. We pulled into a large structure with multiple levels, all filled with cars from what I could see. Tattletale’s car stopped up ahead and the occupants poured out. Tattletale, Masego, and then two men armed with guns. Keith pulled up next to them and I unlatched my seatbelt and opened the door, trying to jump out as we rolled to a stop. I hit the ground with one foot and then had to whirlwind my arms as the change in momentum was more severe than I expected.  
  
Tattletale was dragging a hand across her face and chuckling. “Wait for the car to stop, we’re not in that much of a rush.”  
  
I shrugged. “I wanted to try it. It was in that movie you showed us.”  
  
“I should not have showed you two Die Hard,” she said, shaking her head. She raised her hand and wagged two fingers forward. “Let’s move out.”  
  
I fell in behind them, leaving a solid forty paces between us. Much like with the cars, the idea was to keep separate from them so I could keep an eye on them and not get caught in any ambush aimed at them. We seemed to be pretty conspicuous, moving in costume in broad daylight, but Tattletale was the one who knew how things worked here.  
  
We went out a back entrance to the structure and entered an alley that had an overwhelming smell of garbage and piss. Tattletale’s group already far ahead, they had opened some metal hatch to a staircase that descended underground. I waited with Keith for them to descend and then followed. The staircase was dark, leading into a dimly lit room full of what looked to be dry food storage. A larder of sorts it seemed. Tattletale and Masego were waiting in the middle, the two guards covering a second staircase. I noticed Keith hanging back, covering the one we had come through.  
  
Tattletale frowned. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”  
  
“Gods, don’t say that,” I started at her.  
  
“Why?” she asked, eyebrows creased downwards.  
  
I gestured to above us. “It’s just asking for something bad to happen. Before, it could’ve just been a delay, but now the scene is primed for it.”  
  
“Maybe in your universe, this is still ours,” she retorted.  
  
The ground above us rumbled briefly.  
  
“Catherine,” Masego said, looking to me. “Remember Philosteine’s theory on dimensional bounding?”  
  
I looked up as the ground rumbled again, more concerned with the ominous rumbling. “Little distracted at the moment Zeze.”  
  
“Oil and water can mix when forced together,” he practically shouted over the next rumble.  
  
Tattletale pulled out her gun, looking around the ceiling frantically. “Oh fuck.”  
  
A man with white hair and smoking eyes bolted down the staircase guarded by Keith, quickly followed by a girl with long platinum blonde hair. I looked quickly to Tattletale, who held a hand up indicating to leave them.  
  
A taller woman with dark hair and a martial bearing ducked her head into the staircase, shouting, “You said it was handled!”  
  
She went flying down the stairs, smacking into the ground in the larder with a thump. I stepped forward, seeing Keith back up as he held a larger gun pointed at the staircase. The dark haired woman groaned in pain as I approached, the other two running back towards Tattletale. A woman floated down the stairs, dressed in a mix of grey armor pieces and a black costume. A helmet covering the top half of her head, long black hair flowing out from behind it along her cape.  
  
“Tattletale. How did I know letting you go was a mistake?” she scoffed.  
  
“Fuck me,” Tattletale cursed from behind me. I stepped forward, deliberately positioning myself between them. The woman who had been thrown into the ground rolled to the side, slowly pulling herself out of the way.  
  
The floating woman tilted her head towards me. “Squire. Whatever she has promised you, we can provide far better. Stand aside.”  
  
I tapped into what I could of my Mantle, feeling Winter course through my veins steadily. “See, that sounds awfully ominous. Overtures of peace from a woman who just punted someone falls kind of flat.”  
  
“Squire-” Tattletale shouted. The woman flicked a pebble past my head, cracking the wall beside Tattletale.  
  
“Not another word from you.” The woman turned the grey helmet back to face me. “This little gang has no authority, no power. I don’t know what you want, but as the actual authority in this world, we can negotiate with you. Perhaps this is your world’s first contact with another dimension. These things are incredibly delicate. There’s no place for petty little gangs here. Work with us and we can make sure it’s safe and beneficial for everyone involved.”  
  
What was it with heroes and always offering the carrot only after the stick? She couldn’t just come in here and try to bargain nicely. No, she had to go and punt some woman hard enough that I bet her ribs cracked and then make threats before extending the hand of truce. What were the odds that her idea of working together meant screwing us over too? Seriously, offering us everything we wanted if we only gave up the people who had helped us? Now that was a Story.  
  
“See here’s the thing,” I responded, flexing my hand as ice covered my fingers, forming long talons. “Beyond the fact that I have no way to know if you’re trustworthy, you just made a major mistake.”  
  
The woman looked at me expectantly. “Oh?”  
  
“You threatened a party backed into a corner with overwhelming force,” I said with a satisfied grin.  
  
“Kick her ass Squire!” Tattletale shouted from behind me.  
  
My hand snapped up, catching the rock that the woman had flicked the instant Tattletale had spoken up. I opened my hand, letting the crushed gravel dribble out from between my fingers onto the floor. To her credit, the woman reacted with lightning reflexes, barely taking a moment to come to a decision. She shot forward for me and I grew a sword of ice, plunging it straight at her chest.  
  
My world flipped head over heels as I crashed into the wall. With Winter in my veins, that hit would’ve smarted, but been fine. With Winter and whatever power I retained from the Butcher, I felt absolutely nothing. I flexed my hand felt the power within, a weird, fluctuating strength formed by the tenuous amalgam of Winter and Butcher. Grabbing a piece of the wall I chucked it at the woman.  
  
She didn’t even attempt to dodge, the debris shattering against her and not leaving a scratch.  
  
_Well, go fucking figure. I get unbreakable skin and the first person I fight has it too._  
  
The woman rushed forward and I tackled her mid-air, the two of us colliding and crashing into another wall, sending shelves of stored food flying. I grabbed a sack of potatoes and slammed them down into her head, disappointed to see the only effect it had was to cover the woman in potato bits. She punched me straight in the jaw and I staggered back, unharmed but wary. That kind of punch could’ve taken my head clean off back when I was just the Squire.  
  
“Out, out! Fucking move! Zeze, grab her. Scrub, shoot Alexandria if she gets past Squire. Into the alley, go, go!” Tattletale was directing everyone back into the alley, scrambling out herself as I stared the woman, Alexandria she had said, down. Something in the back of my head tingled and I tried to nail down the feeling.  
  
She moved first, slamming into me again and pinning me against the ground. The tingling grew worse and I felt an instinct I certainly had never had. Pulling on that instinct, I felt something click and I appeared across the room, Alexandria suddenly underneath me as our orientation flipped. I swung a knee up into her, more throwing myself back than doing anything appreciable to her.  
  
Alexandria ignored me, shooting towards the exit and I launched forward, grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her sideways. We crashed into the wall to the side of the staircase instead. Light flooding over us as the collapsed wall crumbled around us. The alley visible now as the wall we had hit was essentially gone.  
  
“Portal, now!” Tattletale was ordering. “Zeze, work with Labyrinth to find the thinnest boundary.”  
  
Alexandria glanced over at them and I threw an ice covered punch. Her hand shot up, catching mine and squeezing. Even I was surprised that my hand didn’t break under the pressure I could feel her exerting on it. I couldn’t even put a scratch on her. Extra strength was nice, but it did nothing against whatever invulnerability she had. That was okay though, I didn’t need to beat her here, just delay her long enough for the others to get the portal up.  
  
Alexandria whipped her arm, trying to throw me by the hand she held. I grabbed her wrist with the other hand, redirecting the force to crash my legs into her. She reached for my leg and I teleported as the tingling in my head went off again. I could feel the flow of the Story with me. It wouldn’t be easy, because it had to be tough for the Story to work, but I could hold her off.  
  
She punched and I ducked. I made blocks of ice, trying to hem her in and failing. She broke out, flying up where I couldn’t reach her. I teleported onto the roof, leaping and slamming into her from above. The wind rushed around us as she simply flew up while I slammed my fist into her repeatedly. I tried to tap into the power that had made me unreasonably angry, but it sputtered and fizzled in my head, squirming through my grasp.  
  
I looked down and saw the city far, far beneath us. My old fear of heights suddenly remembering itself as I looked at the passing clouds. Alexandria whipped herself down and I felt my grip break, hurtling down through the sky with the extra momentum. I was okay though. I had a body that was reinforced by two different sources of durability. I could probably survive a fall like this. My pounding heart tried to disagree and I worked to ignore it. Maybe I could teleport once I was close to the ground? The ground sure was approaching fast.  
  
I saw Alexandria fly at me from above, the tingling in my head suddenly screaming, and she collided with me. I shot down through the air at a ridiculous speed from the blow. Ice wings spread out from me, breaking and shattering at the speed I was falling at. I kept forming ice, trying to slow my descent with it, the danger sense in my head getting quieter as I approached only regularly terrifying speeds.  
  
I was nearly to the ground, but I was pretty sure I could a combination of my ice and my newfound durability to land decently. My danger sense suddenly blared and I saw a black figure shooting up from below in the corner of my vision. I teleported and feeling the power resist found I only had moved a few paces to the side. Alexandria shot through the space I had been occupying with barely half a second to spare.  
  
I crashed down, forming a slope of ice beneath me as I landed on a rooftop, sliding down the ice off the edge of the roof and landing in the alley with a thump. A bit of an awkward landing, but not bad for falling a few leagues from the sky, I thought. The alley was different than when I had left it. Strange castle-like walls instead of normal ones now lined the sides and a cobblestone path filled the center, but didn’t quite extend the whole length of the alley.  
  
“Try again, two paces to your left,” Masego was saying to Scrub. The latter rubbed his temples.  
  
“I don’t get to pick exactly where blows up,” he complained. A bag of trash exploded, replaced with nothing as the remnants blew outwards.  
  
“Other bag of trash Scrub,” Tattletale called out.  
  
“How does it make any difference?” Scrub cried back.  
  
Alexandria crashed into the ground in front of me, landing on two hands and a knee before standing up slowly. Damn, that looked a lot better than my landing. I had to remember everyone here had a lot more practice with these kinds of power than I did. Names didn’t have the raw destructive power that powers here did. I wasn’t sure even someone like Ranger could handle this woman.  
  
At least I seemed to either not take enough damage to feel pain or was immune to it now. I did not envy the thought of trying to fight the capes here without that. I did have my Aspects still, but I wasn’t sure using either of them was wise here. Take was tied up in the Butcher’s powers still, though it felt like I could try and use it. Try being the key word. I wondered if either Break or Fall would work through the woman’s invulnerability. It was something I could break out if things got worse. Best to keep that as an ace in the hole.  
  
“The other left!” Tattletale shouted.  
  
“I’m trying!” Scrub shouted back.  
  
I looked at Alexandria and gave her a shrug. “Villains, am I right?”  
  
She punched the air in front of me and the shockwave buffeted me back. It felt like she was holding back. Sure, she might not have been able to completely destroy me, but she was faster than I was and stronger to boot. She could’ve kept me up in the air for ages and just worn me down. The punch just now? Another demonstration that I wasn’t up to snuff to fight with her.  
  
So why let me land? I narrowed my eyes at her and saw the slightest of smiles on her face. Why let me fight, unless she wanted us to succeed? If she wanted us to succeed, why even fight me in the first place? It made us rush. Was that her goal here? Was she trying to lure our trump cards out?  
  
I considered calling out to Tattletale, even though Alexandria would surely hear me as well.  
  
“I want to thank you, Squire,” Alexandria said, out of the blue.  
  
I looked at her, trying to get a read on her. Her body language exuded one thing and one thing only. Pure confidence. She felt like she was in absolute control and I wasn’t sure she was wrong.  
  
“You don’t know it, but we’ve been struggling for decades against a threat you can scare imagine. The existence of your world is a relief, a new hope for us. I don’t expect you to forgive us, but you’d do the same in our place,” she said.  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m pretty certain you’re wrong about that,” I retorted, not at all liking where this was going. The pit in my gut was only getting worse as things dragged on.  
  
She shrugged. “Perhaps. It’s immaterial, however.”  
  
A flash of light and sound came from behind me along with the exuberant shouting of Masego. I half turned to look at them without fully letting Alexandria out of my line of sight. A circular portal glowed in the wall of the alley, just big enough to fit a cart pulled by two horses side by side through. I recognized Warlock looking through in surprise from the other side.  
  
In front of the portal, another, smaller one opened. A woman in a strange looking suit wearing a hat stepped out. To her side two other portals opened, letting through two others, surrounding Tattletale’s group. One was a man in a blue and white skintight suit, much like Tattletale’s. The other was a man in a green costume, head hidden inside his hood.  
  
Alexandria walked up beside me, patting my shoulder with a gloved hand. “We’ll be taking control of the portal. Feel free to resist, but I don’t recommend it.”


	45. 4.5a - The Black Knight

### 4.5a - The Black Knight

“No, let me explain. The great and terrifying eldritch being that we worship demands blood as it makes life and is paid in life back. The more blood you get from followers you recruit, the more favor you accrue. You can’t make a pyramid out of blood, so it can’t be a pyramid scheme.”

Recorded recruitment spiel from a member of the Cult of Yy’thon, Keeper of the Red Waters

Amadeus did not pinch the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hallway, side by side with Hye, but the urge called to him. The dwarven delegates were waiting as the legionnaire opened the doors to one of the many meeting rooms within the Tower. This one lacking any of the screaming edifices that the Tower’s many previous claimants had so loved adorning it with.

He looked at the delegation. Three dwarves, which was not a typical number, but that was immediately explained away by the presence of the one in the middle. A dwarf that stood a solid half foot taller than the other two, adorned with cloth dyed with deep blues and thick armor of steel that had a soft blue sheen. Not a Herald nor a Seeker, no they hadn’t been that unfortunate, but more than a simple envoy or messenger.

He gestured briefly to the room. “We are graced to host your delegation. I will have drinks brought so we can speak properly.”

The dwarf in blue shook his burly head. Speaking in a thickly accented and antiquated form of Lower Miezan, “That’s appreciated, but unnecessary. We came here to deliver a message and to take a prize. There are no talks today.”

Amadeus nodded, the gears in his head quickly shifting to process the new information. He sat down across from them at the long coffee table that filled the center of the room.

“Very well, will I suffice or does this require the ear of the Dread Empress?” he asked.

The dwarf shook his head once more. “Neither,” he stated. His deep set eyes flicked to Hye. “The message is for the former Lady of the Lake.”

“Former?” Hye asked, tone filled with sharp interest and the taste of challenge.

“The lake itself is gone. As is the protectorate of Refuge. Another can be raised, if you wish, but that is a talk for the future,” he rumbled. “There were no survivors found.”

Black steadied himself mentally, glancing at Hye. To say she had loved Refuge would be too strong of a word. She loved the freedom and power it represented, but the settlement itself was, much like most physical attachments, a passing fancy for her. How she reacted would depend very much on what exactly had happened to Refuge, he knew.

She raised an eyebrow in what Amadeus knew to be a very dangerous look. “I assume you haven’t come with only that much information. Go on.”

The dwarf took a long breath in. Dwarves were, as a people, very hard to unsettle. Being the dominant species on the continent for many centuries tended to give a people a difficult to shake confidence. That he was even slightly uncomfortable was a sign that he recognized the danger Ranger posed. She couldn’t topple the Kingdom Under of course, but there was a reason Refuge was the only surface territory the dwarves had ever laid any degree of claim on.

“A flying city was dropped on Refuge, destroying the settlement. The lake was then contaminated with sorcery and undead,” he answered.

Amadeus felt the gears click into place immediately. Flying cities were, of course, a staple of only one nation on the surface. Praes. The reports from southern Callow had of course taken note of the missing city, the information only reaching back to the Tower in the last few days by scrying. The city had been Liesse, which meant the Diabolist had been responsible. That the city fell was no guarantee of her death, but Story wise was a strong indicator she had been defeated.

“The dead then breached the lake bottom and flooded the area beneath, infesting the region. An expedition was sent to the surface, concerns raised from the Deep that the Dead King had taken more of the surface. We are fortunate that this was no such incursion, but punishment must be meted out to those responsible,” he finished.

Ah, there was the crux. It all came back to Skitter. He slipped a piece of parchment and a pen to a tendril of shadow, beginning the arduous task of trying to write behind his own back.

Hye leaned forward over the back of the couch on her arms, interest fully keened now. “And? Who was it?”

The dwarf glanced back at him for just a brief moment. “A Named we are unfamiliar with. A human female called Skitter, who has mastery over bugs. A new Name that is not in our records. We will be collecting her for questioning and judgement.” The dwarf looked back to Black once more. “We tracked her to here. You can bring us to her, Black Knight?”

Black felt a shock down his spine as the full implications of the on-going Story unfolded his mind. The girl had set some pieces in motion that were large enough to crush the Empire underfoot. At that moment he felt like a child caught playing with embers and watching them flash into something much larger than he expected. A mistake, he thought, to have used a tool he didn’t fully understand.

He nodded mechanically. “Of course. You will be wanting to see her immediately I assume?”

His shadow extended, slipping underneath the edge of the door and pushing the note to one of the Legionnaires guarding the outside. It was a trick he had rarely needed to use and he hoped his handwriting hadn’t suffered too much for it. Hye almost certainly had seen what he was doing. He figured she would keep quiet, she always enjoyed watching his ploys enough to not interrupt them, but there was the risk she would be invested enough here to do so.

Hye laughed in a sharp, brief burst. “Oh, now that’s good. That’s great. I knew she had a fire in her, but to think I’ve been traveling with the same wisp of a girl who dropped a city on my lake.” She shook her head in amusement, wiping away a non-existent tear. Thoughtfully she added, “And Rex didn’t say a word to me either. That boy and I are going to have a talk.”

The dwarf in blue stood and his two companions stood with him. “That would be best, yes.”

Hye straightened up as well. “I’ll be wanting to see her myself.”

“We’ve been told to request you leave enough of her for Truth Seekers to question,” the dwarf gravelled to Hye. Black got up, taking his time headed over to the door. He was trying to figure out how fast a Legion soldier could run and how much time he needed to buy him.

She waved her hand flippantly. “Oh I won’t touch a hair on her chinny chin chin. Don’t you worry.”

He needed to buy the soldier at least five minutes lead time, given the peculiarities of ascending the Tower. That was do-able, he determined as he figured in his internal sense for how fast a soldier could run in armor. He knew that sending a message to Skitter would only result in them arriving right before she escaped, the Story was too in motion already to avoid that. He only had one option. It was suboptimal, but the situation it would create would be preferable to one in which he didn’t send a message.

They headed down the hallway for the elevator. The dwarves followed behind him, with Hye practically bouncing alongside him. She wasn’t so obvious, of course, but he had developed an eye for these things. He strolled at a pace slightly below his normal. Perfectly within human walking range, but it would add a precious few seconds to their transit time.

He opted to take the elevator, it was a more concrete variable to work with than the precocious nature of taking one of the mounts up. Just as he had opted to bring a few Legion trained soldiers over leaving everything to the Sentinels. Those were Alaya’s creations and he preferred to work with tools he understood best. A lesson he was being harshly reminded of at the moment.

As they approached the door to the room Wekesa had chosen for the ritual Hye stepped out of line with him, pulling out her bow and kicking the massive granite door open. A flicker of movement and he heard the arrow snap across the room. The dwarves behind him reached for their weapons and he half spun, turning his back away from them, but keeping an eye on Hye.

In the room stood Wekesa and Skitter. Wekesa looked sickly, sweat covering his brow and drenching his expensive silk robes. The portal stood open, a strangely clear image of the other side present. Wekesa must’ve finished the ritual as soon as he had gotten the message to look as drawn as he did. Skitter was warily regarding Ranger, the arrow she had fired lodged right between her feet.

Black took a breath in and calculated. Openly defying the dwarves would be the end of the Empire, it was simply not something that could be done. Allowing them to take Skitter would put in motion Stories that could potentially undo much of his work as well. Skitter had to escape this encounter, but neither he nor Wekesa could be seen helping her.

Skitter had managed to get a small swarm inside the Tower with her, the bugs collapsing down from the roof at Ranger. Ranger stepped to the side, drawing one of her knives and cutting through the swarm. The cut cleaving the swarm far past where the blade ended and she stalked towards Skitter. The dwarves rushed past him, spreading out to cut off the other side of the room from her. Wisely they had chosen to interpret Ranger’s actions as helping them and not picking a fight with her, well aware that would’ve gone poorly.

Skitter pulled her swarm back, disappearing into it. The swarm blobbed towards the portal and another two arrows shots pierced through the tendrils closest to it.

“Nuh-uh. You want to escape, you’ll have to do better,” Ranger said with a hungry tone. “You best use every trick you’ve got.”

The sound filled the room, his ears protesting at the sudden staccato of sharp explosive sounds. Ranger had pressed herself behind one of the desks that held some of the magical apparatuses for the ritual. The apparatuses themselves were shattered, glass and metal strewn across the desk and floor. Whatever trick Skitter had pulled out had been faster than he could see, even with his Name helping him. It looked like Ranger had narrowly avoided it, but that only made it worse. Skitter getting Hye’s blood pumping even a little made this drastically harder.

The dwarf in blue held a hammer in one hand and a heavy shield in the other. His two fellows both wielding two handed hammers as they advanced slowly. Black kept back, sword drawn but avoiding engaging. His pretense was that there was little he could do here without getting in the way and given the size of the room and the on-going fight, wasn’t even that much of a lie. Even the dwarves seemed to be content to leave most of it to Ranger, as any other option was almost guaranteed to be less effective.

Sound was coming through the portal now. Golden light splashing through the edges of it and casting strange shadows in the room. The swarm backed away from the portal, pushing back towards the windows. Just a little further, he thought. Ranger stepped out from behind her cover, moving forward at a steady pace. She flicked the knife down towards her feet, cutting razor thin threads that had been placed along ankle height.

“You’ve got to have more than that,” Ranger said, kicking the blade back up into her hand.

The swarm pressed back against the window, spreading out along the edge of the room. He was impressed with the trick, he couldn’t tell for sure where the girl was within the cloud of bugs. He suspected with some exposure to her habits he could begin to figure out where she most likely was, but it was a good trick. Ranger approached the swarm, getting within a few feet of it as she eyed the cloud critically.

The girl came out of the side, striking with what looked like a baton of some sort as the rest of the swarm collapsed in on Ranger. He winced preemptively. The girl was ejected from the swarm a moment later, sliding across the floor on her back. The swarm quickly covered her and he heard the muffled sounds of combat within the swarm. This time the girl came out a few feet above the ground, thrown into window. The magically and mundanely reinforced glass cracked and he raised an eyebrow.

Ranger stepped out of the cloud, wiping at her mouth with an amused look and shrugged. “That’s it?” she asked, standing over the slumped form of the girl, who was struggling to push herself back to her feet.

The crack in the glass was slowly, but surely, spreading above and behind her.

He raised his voice, “The dwarves will be upset if you kill her Hye.”

The dwarves glanced between him and her, holding their position in the middle of the room near the portal. The sounds of combat had started from the other side of the portal, which was worrisome in itself. Not something he could properly address until the situation in the room was resolved. Ranger turned half towards him, smirking.

“You know me better than that-”

The glass behind her shattered as two of the grey-skinned reptilian beasts used to ferry people up and down the tower crashed through it. Astride the back of one was the easily recognizable form of one of Catherine’s goblins, Robber, and the pupil of Ranger’s they had brought, Beastmaster. The other was mounted by a single goblin.

He closed his eyes for just a moment in relief. The message had gotten through.

One heroic last second rescue, right on schedule.

A/N: This chapter was slightly delayed by EE laying down a bunch of new (really cool) WoG on the Discord. This is now slightly more of an AU!


	46. 4.6 - Taylor

### 4.6 - Taylor

“It is said the Gods watch over Creation eternally, judging each choice and conflict to see whether Good or Evil will settle the wager. What this truly shows is the role of superior intelligence and information in a conflict. In today’s session I will detail a plan to remedy this, with the construction of a massive demonic eye to be placed at the apex of the Tower...”  
\- Dread Emperor Malevolent IV, the Vigilant

Borer’s hand grabbed mine and somehow, despite every fiber of my being insisting that tiny hand at this speed couldn’t possibly hold onto me, he was pulling me up onto what looked like some bastard child of a dragon and a chronically ill snake.

“Borer?” I asked, slightly dumbfounded by the sudden appearance. The increasingly familiar feeling of a minor concussion probably contributed to that.

“Hold tight,” he grunted, pulling the reins hard as we banked back towards the now shattered window.

I turned and saw Ranger, the flash of anger in her eyes felt like it resonated through the room. She drew her bow in what looked like slow motion, yet took no time at all. The arrow came down, nocked and pointed. I grabbed at the reigns from my position half laying on the saddle, my back filled with a shooting pain from being thrown against the window just half a minute ago.

“Swerve!” I grunted back.

Borer turned to look at me and I saw his yellow eyes widen as he looked past me and saw what Ranger was doing. It would only take us a few seconds to retreat, but she had us dead to rights if she hit us. At this short of a range, from someone of her caliber, it was a foregone conclusion. Robber and Beastmaster couldn’t do anything except get in the way, which was equally unacceptable. I wouldn’t leave them behind to fight that monster of a woman. I tried to pull my swarm in to obfuscate her view for what good it might do.

Borer’s eyes flicked to mine for a long second and then back to Ranger. I heard the snap of the bowstring and ducked on principle, but our mount didn’t suddenly buck or plummet. We rushed through the broken window into open air, immediately banking to fly straight up against the surface of the Tower. Robber and Beastmaster flanking us a moment later, keeping a wide berth from us as they did the same.

I looked to Borer, confused, as I tried to put together what had happened. Holding the reigns in one hand he flashed me the sight of his hand holding an arrow by its head from inside his small jacket and pressed a finger to his lips after closing the jacket. I stared back at his wide yellow eyes and nodded firmly. He gave me that small twitch of his lips that I had learned was a smile for the unusually straight-laced goblin.

Wrapping my arms around him I squeezed. “I didn’t say goodbye,” I said.

“That’s traditional in goblin culture,” he replied, stoically looking forward.

“You came back for me,” I followed with.

He tilted his head. “Less traditional in goblin culture.”

A chuckle escaped my lips as wind buffeted us. “I’m a bad influence.”

He answered in that monotone of his, “The worst. It’s why we came, of course.” Casually turning his head to the side so we could both pretend I hadn’t seen the twitch of his lips when he said it.

I relaxed my grip around him, though certainly not around the mount. The saddle was clearly designed to help keep the occupants on despite the nearly vertical angle of our ascent, but that didn’t mean I was unclenching my legs. A few seconds more of flying and we levelled out, drifting up onto a platform at a higher floor. Beastmaster and Robber landed almost at the same time, dismounting quickly.

“We should get inside pronto like, boss,” Robber said, gesturing to the door as he scuttled over to another imposing door bordered in skulls and demonic looking figures. I was thoroughly convinced the Praesi couldn’t just build normal things.

Beastmaster ran a hand through his hair as he walked beside me, looking up. “She’s going to kill me.”

“She’s going to kill all of us if she comes up here,” Robber added as he pulled the door open.

I wasn’t good at comforting people, but I tried to put a hand on Beastmaster’s shoulder. It felt awkward, but it could just be how out of practice I was with normal human interaction. Between the bullying, which felt like ages ago, and the running around with capes and goblins.

“Thanks for coming for me,” I said.

Beastmaster glanced over to the side at me, the strain in his eyes softening a bit. “We’re companions, are we not? I owe Lady Ranger much and more, but she will survive what constitutes a minor inconvenience for her.”

We slipped inside, finding a hallway that looked like it was decorated for a gothic dance. Black decor adorned with almost tacky skulls and bone motifs, all regal in design. Following Robber we ducked into a room with a few tables, what looked like a long empty punch bowl fashioned out of a screaming maw, and a skeleton slumped against the wall in the decaying remains of some dress. Borer began shifting the tables around, setting four chairs up around one that looked the least disgusting.

“So...what now?” I asked, glancing around the table.

“We wait. If Lady Ranger wants to pursue you, there’s little we can do about it. Our hope is that she’s annoyed, but not enough so to chase you. Then, when she has gotten bored and left, that we might sneak you back down,” Beastmaster elaborated.

Robber gave a sharp laugh. “Which should take all of about five minutes. She’s got a portal to a whole nother world right there. Easy bait for someone like her.”

“Exactly. She’s unlikely to bother with us while there’s a more interesting target,” Beastmaster agreed with a nod.

I frowned a bit, thinking back to what little I had gotten to see through the portal. “That portal went to Brockton Bay. I don’t want her going on a murder spree through my home.”

Robber shook his head. “Worse than that actually. The dwarves saw the portal too. No way the Kingdom Under isn’t going to have an interest in that.”

“It’s in the Tower though. Surely the Black Knight and the Dread Empress wouldn’t just let them take it,” I ventured.

“The Kingdom Under could sink the entire Tower if it wanted,” Borer informed me. “The Empire will have no option but to give them access.”

“The Black Knight was the one to tip us off, even if there’s not a single shred of evidence for it because who else had the opportunity? He’s not fully allied with the dwarves in that case,” Beastmaster supplied. Interesting, as I hadn’t known the Black Knight had been the one to arrange my rescue. That man was craftier than he seemed, for someone so unassuming in a dramatic world like Calernia.

“You said the Black Knight is smart before. Everyone talks about how clever he is. He came in with the dwarves, surely he wouldn’t have shown them the portal in that case?” I asked, chewing on my lip.

Robber shrugged. “He may not have had a choice. Or maybe he has a plan. Knowledge of something like the portal existing would be pretty bad for the Empire though. I can’t think of anyone on the continent who wouldn’t try to square up with Praes over it. It would take months for most of ‘em to organize though.”

Beastmaster nodded sagely, hunched over the table as he cradled his chin. “Which means we’re on a time limit.” He put a finger down onto the dusty tabletop, drawing a semicircle. “We should assume the portal will be defended or contested. While the Empire is likely fine with letting us go through, the dwarves probably won’t be. The Empire will have to side with the dwarves, which means we can expect some token resistance from them.”

I stretched my swarm sense out, slowly filling the floor we were on as much as I could with my depleted swarm. I was too high up to reach the spiders I had left in the sewers unfortunately. At the very least I wanted to know if Ranger showed up.

“The Empress won’t be a fan of letting the dwarves run around the Tower making demands,” Robber added. “We can expect her and Black to be doing their own thing in the mean time to try and get control back.”

I thought back to what I had seen through the portal as I had fought Ranger. What looked like the Triumvirate facing off against Tattletale and what I was pretty sure was Apprentice. It had been months since I had seen him and I had only met him for a few days, so I wasn’t wholly certain since he looked a bit different. His hair was distinctive though and he certainly didn’t look like a native Brocktonite.

“Lady Ranger will likely be gone long before we can get down there, but we should descend the Tower internally. If she or the dwarves secure that room, coming in by flying mount will be suicide,” Beastmaster replied in turn.

Robber pursed his lips, drawing in the dust with his short, scrabbly finger. Or claw. I wasn’t sure exactly where the line was drawn. I had never bothered to ask. “So we have to navigate the Tower while against two superior forces. Borer, what supplies did we manage to get?”

“None, sir.” Borer blinked slowly at him.

“Honestly, you see what I have to work with?” Robber gestured to Borer.

“You insisted we needed to shift everything in Warlock’s room half a hand to the left before we could resupply. Your specific orders were ‘to fuck with his feng shui’,” Borer replied flatly.

Robber threw his hands up. “And now giving away operation secrets!”

I felt out with my swarm, occasionally losing bugs to various bits of this floor of the Tower. The inherent hazards that existed in this spiraling tower of insanity were their own challenge to overcome. While Robber did his bit, I turned inward and thought.

We had to descend the Tower against two potentially hostile forces. We had an unknown number of Named opposing us. We were on a time limit and had almost no resources. I could maybe force my way down between using my bugs for recon and sneak attacks, but a single bad match up with a Named could see me screwed. Navigating the Tower alone would be dangerous.

I was fine with risking myself to push for the portal, but this would involve risking the others. And if I did get to the portal, what then? I’d go through, leaving those three on the other side with a lot of pissed off powerful people in what was going to be a highly contested zone. That was a pretty shitty way to say goodbye to people who saved my life and kept me company. If I was going to do this, I wouldn’t do it in a way that fucked over my friends. All three would probably take on a suicide mission, so I had to find a better option.

“We’re going to do this right,” I said, interrupting the quibbling. Even Beastmaster had joined in, seemingly aware that the quibbling was entirely lies and slander and playing into it. I hadn’t figured the hero for the type, but he was slowly warming up to the two.

All three turned to look at me and I took a deep breath in. “We’ve got no resources, no clear allies, and no fallbacks. I want, I need, to go home. And it might fuck us over to try. But there’s no point in doing it stupidly.”

I looked to Robber. “You said it would take months for anyone outside Praes and the dwarves to mobilize on this. If we take time to prepare I think it will only improve our chances.” Rushing in at Liesse had been necessary, to a degree, but it had resulted in a lot of people dying. I wasn’t about to make that same mistake if I could do better this time.

“Plus Lady Ranger certainly won’t wait longer than that,” Beastmaster noted.

I gave him a nod. “Also that. If we can get in contact with the Black Knight as well, we can get an idea of what they’re up to. You said they want the dwarves out but can’t afford to piss them off. Maybe we can work with them under the table.” I paused, thinking. “Again.”

Robber cackled sharply. “I thought you swore off working with the Calamities after the whole Diabolist thing.”

I shot him a glare. “As much as I was pissed at Assassin for getting me into that, he’s not the one who raised a zombie army and flying city.” I sighed deeply and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Besides, it’s not like that’ll happen here.”

Beastmaster and Robber glanced at each other. Beastmaster making some strange gesture to the sky.

“What?” I asked the two of them.

Beastmaster pointedly looked at Robber. Robber feigned confusion and looked at Borer. Borer sighed.

“When you say something like that it makes it more likely to happen,” he said flatly.

“Narrative irony. It’s a trap many Named fall for,” Beastmaster elucidated.

Robber nodded. “It’s why I’ve been one day away from retirement for eight months now. Really a shame how they keep pushing it back on me.”

“Isn’t that going to make you more likely to get killed?” I asked, confused for a moment. I figured it out right after I asked.

Robber grinned. “Exactly. Keeps things interesting!”

Beastmaster and I both facepalmed together to the sounds of Robber cackling.

\---

“There’s only soup,” Borer reported back.

“What do you mean there’s only soup?” I asked.

“He means there’s only soup,” Robber helpfully clarified.

“The entire stockroom is filled solely with soup?” I asked again, hoping for a more sensical answer.

“Correct,” Borer replied.

“And you tried the other rooms?”

“There was just more soup.” Robber shrugged.

“Well, at least we won’t be going hungry any time soon. Was it good soup?” Beastmaster asked, looking decidedly too chipper for this news. Robber gave another shrug in response.

I sighed. “Well, as fascinating as it is that the Tower apparently has a magic kitchen continually making soup…”

“Probably poisonous, rotten soup,” Robber added.

“...making probably poisoned, rotten soup,” I corrected. “I’d have preferred munitions.”

Beastmaster held a hand up. “Let’s not be hasty Skitter. Why have a kitchen making food if there’s no one to eat it? I’d wager if we wait around we can find someone to tail.”

Borer grimaced silently and Robber shook his head. “Not so sure about that. The wards for that room were pretty old and the layer of dust over the floor suggests no one’s been in there for a few years at best.”

“So another experiment left from some previous regime,” I concluded. We had run into several by now, though this was by far the most benign. The room full of spike traps only on the ceiling and a weird static electricity feel had been decidedly less pleasant to discover. This level of the Tower seemed to be largely unused, filled with strange creations that had been left running where the magic hadn’t broken down.

“There’s got to be something in here other than Sentinels and various types of devils,” I grumbled.

“We’ve gotten lucky so far I’d say. Heroes that try to breach the Tower often face unending swarms of devils, monstrous experiments, and difficult trials.” Beastmaster leaned against a wall, looking thoughtful.

“Feels like we’re not part of the story anymore. We’re just stumbling on random irrelevant rooms. We must be missing something…” I muttered, half to myself.

I had to try and force my mind to think in the patterns of this world. I was an outsider about to return home, my story wrapped up. But suddenly I was interrupted by the consequences of my actions and was forced to flee. It was hard to fancy myself in the role of a villain, I still wanted to do right even if I had been labeled a villain by the PRT. At best I was sort of neutral, but it would be hard to see myself as a Hero here. So what happened next?

A false ending leading to a new act. Powerful opponents. If this was a heroic tale I’d be expecting a training period, a new insight into myself, or a power up. Was that the trick? I was being given some downtime. Ranger hadn’t pursued, it would take even the dwarves some time to secure the gate.

“Robber…” I said slowly, pondering the conclusion I had come to. “What are the odds there’s some sort of relic or artifact on one of these floors that I could use?”

Robber shrugged, balancing a knife on his finger. “Sure, probably. Half of ‘em are probably booby-trapped to hell and back, and that’s literally. Thinking of dropping some devils on someone?”

I shook my head. “No, but it feels like we’re being given time. Usually that means getting stronger or smarter somehow. There’s no bugs or animals up here for me or Beastmaster and training wouldn’t do much for us either. There’s a lot of weird magic stuff here, so I figure that’s our best shot.”

“And normally, you’d be right,” a voice said from behind us. We turned around to see the Black Knight standing in the hallway. How had he snuck up on us? I had my swarm covering the floor. “But that’s not the Story you want. Magical artifacts, especially for Villains, are almost always a mistake.”

Beastmaster looked uncertainly back at the man. “I do hope you have a counter proposal that isn’t turning Skitter over or giving up.”

The Black Knight smiled, a bit too thin and toothy to be considered a wholly friendly smile. I had the feeling that it was his equivalent of Tattletale’s grin. A blade like smile instead of a vulpine grin, but the effect was the same.

“Naturally,” he replied. “Which is why we’re going to build a second anchor at the top of the Tower.”

I frowned slightly in return. “That doesn’t get the dwarves out of your hair though, unless you have a way to remotely collapse the portal downstairs.”

“A portal can only ever be two ends linked together. At least Warlock assures me that is the case,” he answered. “We will be moving the portal to the top of the tower using the anchor. This will allow you to go home and us to close the portal afterwards.”

That did sound like a solution. Moving the portal, if it could be done, would make it so we didn’t have to fight or sneak through half the Tower and who knows how many enemies to a secured location.

I put a hand up to signal my hesitation. “You make it sound like you need to move the portal to close it.”

Black flicked his eyes to me, the pale green gaze lighting up slightly at my words. “We are no longer in control of either side of the portal,” he confirmed, nodding briefly.

“Is Lady Ranger-?” Beastmaster half asked.

“Presumably fine. We haven’t seen Hye since she threw a Hero back through the portal,” Black answered, smirking. “She was the happiest I’ve seen her in awhile though.”

“Who’s in control of the portal then?” I asked, less concerned for the safety of the woman who had been beating the shit out of me for fun. I could understand Beastmaster’s concern, but there was no love lost between me and her.

The Black Knight stayed half turned away from us. If it was meant to be mysterious, it just came across as aloof. Though maybe that was intentional as well. The man did seem very calculating. “The dwarves were pushed back and we’ve worked with them to barricade the room while they call for reinforcements. We’re unsure of what entity from your world has taken control of the portal, but none of our mages could re-establish control. They do appear to be Heroes, rather than Villains.”

Shit, that meant it was probably the PRT. I wasn’t aware of any portal makers in the Protectorate, but then again I didn’t know most of the Protectorate capes that weren’t headlines famous outside my own city. It was possible Cauldron was involved, but frankly I had even less of an idea what they were capable of. I had been removed from the scene for too long to be able to make an educated guess.

“The Protectorate can be somewhat reasonable, it’s possible you could negotiate with them. A temporary ceasefire at least,” I said, mulling my thoughts over.

Black shook his head. “Unfortunately that isn’t viable. Our best option is to play into the fact that we’re Villains who unleashed something beyond our ken. A ploy to get you home, get Catherine, Warlock, and Masego back, and then seal it off for good fits that. We undo the damage and ‘learn’ from our mistake, sealing the forbidden knowledge back in a box.”

I had to admit, that was a better idea than what I had come up with so far. It even fit with classic story tropes of evil unleashing a great power out of ambition or recklessness and the need to seal it again. Not having a hero to seal it was a bit of a problem, but I suppose as the outsider I could play the role of being the critical outside intervention. Not that I was considering going against the Black Knight here. The man lived and breathed the rules of this world. While I was going to question and examine any plan he laid down, I had to acknowledge that he had far more experience in this field.

“Won’t the dwarves be kinda upset by that?” Robber asked, looking up to Black.

“Somewhat, but that’s something we’ve anticipated,” he said. “What we cannot handle is a nation’s worth of Named, or their equivalent, trying to establish a beachhead in the middle of our capital.”

Robber nodded in return. “That would pose a tiny bit of a problem. Goblinfire out of the question?”

Black put a single finger to the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think it was possible, but Catherine somehow managed to give you bad habits instead of the other way around.”

Robber was all smiles with that, grinning widely. “Aww, thanks boss.”

“The Tower has many horrors leftover from previous reigns. Surely some of them could be used to contain or destroy the portal?” Beastmaster asked, following up Robber’s question.

Black somehow managed to look down at a man that had a solid foot in height on him. “Anything we unleashed that was capable of destroying the portal would also be unleashed in the middle of the Tower. There’s several ways that could go, I think it obvious enough that none of them would be desirable.”

Beastmaster winced slightly at the thinly veiled rebuke for the question. I had my largest spider lower from the ceiling and give him a small pat on the shoulder. I wasn’t entirely fond of taking Black’s plan at face value, given how much of a schemer he seemed to be, but he had been undeniably on our side every time push had come to shove so far. I would extend a degree of trust, I decided, while remaining vigilant. I still got the impression he wanted me out of here rather than dead, which was perfectly fine with me. This plan also left the others in a much better position, a major plus.

“Alright, what specifically do you need from us then?” I asked.

Black turned and began walking down the hall, speaking as he went, “We’ll need to work quickly. Here’s what I need from you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was massively delayed for many reasons, but it's here finally! Shout out to the Practical Guide discord for all the positive motivation they kept giving me. Future chapters for the next few months will sadly also be delayed most likely. I'm sure some of you have already guessed why - covid-19. I won't go into details, but suffice to say I work in a hospital so I'll be rather swamped for the next few months. Updates may occur during that time, but here's your warning so you know the fic isn't dead.


	47. 4.7 - Catherine

****

###  **4.7 - Catherine**

“This is called the BFG, which stands for Big Fucking Gun. The gun itself is 60% cheap ass attachments around a stock rifle with some LEDs strapped to the sides for good measure. Give one to the biggest dumbass in your squad, because the capes will go straight for it every time, letting your guys who can actually hit shit do something.”

-Captain James Hardy, Leader of the CK-17 Mercenary Group

“Well at least I won’t have to eat my shoe,” Tattletale said drily.

Alexandria had strolled over, almost leisurely, to the group that had appeared in front of the portal. Behind them I could just barely catch a glimpse of some sort of fight breaking out on the other side. So both sides of the portal were already under attack somehow. I needed to get through that portal and get to Black, our best shot at holding the damn thing was to use powers from one world to counter our opponents in another. They had superior firepower and numbers, so our only advantage was the fledgling cooperation we had formed with the Undersiders.

Alexandria held up a hand, looking entirely unscathed from our fight. “Fighting us is pointless. This portal is far too important to leave in the hands of amateurs and petty villains,” she stated frankly.

If my memory served, that was the full Triumvirate in front of us plus one. I didn’t need Tattletale’s super intuition to guess that their cape bogeyman was the one at the back, looking the most unassuming of them all. The simple clothing compared to the striking and bright costumes of the others probably made people underestimate her, but standing right next to them it only was highlighting how different she was.

“Yeah, because leaving it in the hands of Team Crimes Against Humanity is so much better,” Tattletale quipped back. “You have no idea what you’re doing by making a power grab for the portal.”

I shifted away from Tattletale, Scrub, and Masego as she talked. When this turned into a fight, I wanted to be free to take on Legend without risking them. I knew I couldn’t do much against Eidolon, given his powers would likely automatically counter mine. The bogeyman was even worse supposedly. And Alexandria...well, she was about to play right into one of our backup plans.

“Perhaps not,” she replied. “But we’re far better equipped for whatever is in there. We did not arrive at a potential interdimensional crisis with a few mercenaries and a handgun.” Her gaze derisively flicked to Tattletale’s pistol.

Realistically I wasn’t sure I could do any lasting damage to any of them given what we had been told, but I had been pulling off unrealistic plans for a good little while now. With all of us so close to the portal there was nearly just as much of our laws as there were of theirs. I flexed Winter and could feel the renewed strength, that infinite abyss of churning ice.

“Two handguns,” Tattletale clarified, holding two fingers up. “But fine. What’s this grand vision of yours that us mere mortals can’t comprehend?”

“Victory. At any cost,” Alexandria stated grimly. “The Endbringers must be defeated. No combination of powers has yet to do more than slow them. Threats beyond them exist. For the sake of saving all of humanity, if we can find even a single tool in this world that can shift the tide, then it is worth it.”

Tattletale folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “The end of the world in two years. You know what it is.”

“We suspect,” Alexandria clarified in turn. I found it odd she was the only one speaking. Was she their designated speaker or did she have some additional clout the other two didn’t? “Believe it or not, it’s actually a better situation than we anticipated. The end of the world was inevitable, but our chances are better this way.”

“You’re not going to just let us go,” she said. “So let me tell you what’s going to happen next.”

Alexandria smirked, letting out a brief and dark chuckle. “You’ll tell us? I can’t wait to hear this.”

Tattletale shrugged. “What’s going to happen is you’re going to regret getting caught up in a monologue.” She flashed her own smirk in return. “Because it means you weren’t watching your back.”

An arrow shot out of the portal, crashing harmlessly against Alexandria’s back as the group half swiveled in reaction. An exhausted looking Warlock was dragged along by the same figure I had seen on the hill before our battle with Summer. 

The Lady of the Lake, a one time member of the Calamities. Ranger.

Ranger slicked her hair back with one hand, drawing a long knife from her hip with the other. “You know, I just had the most frustrating thing happen.” She pointed at Alexandria. “Are you the leader of these guys?”

Without missing a beat Alexandria replied, “Yes.” Her stance had barely shifted, but I could sense the battle readiness coming off the woman. Beyond that I could feel the very air growing heavy with bloodlust.

Ranger nodded, flicked her knife around once casually, and then started advancing the short distance between them. Warlock was leaning on the wall behind her, giving a wave to Masego as he spotted him, his face lighting up in relief. The exhaustion seemed to almost melt away as they spotted each other.

“Great, that’s easy. Get out of my way or die,” she stated, walking at such a pace that there was no time for Alexandria to respond except to move or stay. I watched, tensed, as she refused to move. The blade flicked up, two deft strikes sliding off each side of her neck. Alexandria reached out to grab her and Ranger flowed around her arm like water, her blade flicking out again, testing the back of her knees. Alexandria kicked a leg out to sweep her legs, hitting only air again as Ranger dodged.

“Eidolon-” Alexandria started to say before being cut off as Ranger drove her knife into her open mouth, the blade snapping as Alexandria bit down, fishing the metal out of her mouth.

Ranger’s eyes had gone wide, not with surprise, but interest. Each cut had seen her more engaged. They had looked incredibly fast, but ordinary, cuts to me, but I knew better than that. Whatever Ranger was doing was likely meant to rend steel asunder or divide stone. The amount of joy I was seeing in her was almost perverse.

“Hm you’re actually interesting,” she said, drawing not just one blade, but two. “I am the Ranger,” she said. “I hunt those worth hunting. Rejoice, for you qualify.”

“We don’t need to fight-” Alexandria started and then stumbled half a step back. The waves of pressure roiling off Ranger increasing tenfold at the words to the point that even she must’ve felt it. Ranger practically disappeared as she stepped forward, her blade sinking into the calf of Alexandria’s still forward leg. No witty retort followed as chaos erupted.

I was about to use my teleport to intercept Legend when a rock flew right across my vision. The bogeyman, the woman who had hung at the back of the group, stepping forward to separate our group from the fight Ranger had picked. Behind her Warlock was engaging with Eidolon as Ranger harried the other two heroes. Tattletale grimaced, glancing between the woman and me as her fingers played over the butt of her pistol.

“You’re looking for something to use against me Tattletale,” the woman stated. “You already know you won’t find it. Your friend the Squire has been accounted for ever since she inherited the Butcher’s powers.”

I glanced at Masego, who was watching one of his fathers engage Eidolon, the two seemingly well matched for the moment, though both were clearly playing it cautious.

The woman smiled at me and I hesitated. “You’re thinking your friend can do something with his powers that might surprise me. He cannot.”

Masego unfolded his arms, turning his head towards her. “You’re suggesting that despite your power coming from a completely foreign source that it is capable of understanding my capabilities to such a level that you can guarantee victory against me?”

Tattletale groaned, spitting out, “Yeah, that sounds like her.” She pointed a finger at the bogeyman. “But clearly your power can’t get everything or you’d be helping your friends back there with the Ranger.”

She shrugged leisurely. “You assume that it wasn’t accounted for before we came here.”

Tattletale’s eye twitched. “There’s no way you could’ve predicted that. Not even with your powers.”

“Oh?” The woman said, the hint of a smug grin directed at Tattletale. “Check for yourse-” a gunshot rang out and the bogeyman collapsed backwards, thrown to the ground. My head snapped back to where the sound had come from, Masego was casually holding the pistol Tattletale had given him earlier.

“It appears your hypothesis was incorrect,” he stated with disappointment. “And my wasn’t. I would suggest revising your base assumptions as they were clearly faulty, but I’m not supposed to lecture people I intend to kill.”

Masego fired the handgun several more times, a green shield erected over the fallen woman as Eidolon turned and rushed to her side. With Ranger and Warlock handling Alexandria and Legend, I felt safe leaving Eidolon to Masego and Tattletale for the moment. Masego was better equipped to handle the sheer variety Eidolon could bring to bear.

I used my teleport to aim for next to Legend, the man shooting higher up into the air as I arrived and my danger sense blaring in my head. Bright streaks of light raining down on me as I formed a shield of ice around my arm to cover myself. The beams curved around my shield, striking at my limbs and burning them despite my newly strengthened skin from the Butcher. Using my Butcher powers I reformed the concrete beneath me into crude shields, cutting off my flanks from his, frankly bullshit, attacks.

Next to me Ranger had already moved on with her fight, having taken the brief window of opportunity to force Alexandria closer to the portal, her blades whipping out constantly as Alexandria was forced on the defensive faced with a foe that could cut through her invincibility. Despite the surprise, her gaze was as determined as before. She was on the backfoot, careful to deflect or dodge the blades, but looked far from off balance as she analyzed Ranger.

Eidolon had held out a hand to do something or another to Ranger, but was currently being stymied by Warlock and Masego. A circle of runes orbiting him, one colliding into him and exploding in a concussive blast whenever he tried to interfere. The circle only lasted a few seconds before he drew on some new power and it dissipated, dissolving away into fragments. Warlock frowning as he was forced to find a new counterspell.

The barrage of beams continued, several starting to bounce off the ground to slip through my defenses and singe me within. I didn’t bother using my teleport again, he was too fast for that trick. Instead I crafted spears of ice, drawing up dozens around me as I reinforced my position. Grabbing one in each hand I flung them into the sky towards Legend. My aim had never been the best, certainly not good enough to blindly fire at a target like him, but I had a new power. The fourteenth Butcher had the ability to make her shots always hit and I tapped into that, feeling a hook I could pull on mentally to warp the way my shots travelled, forcing him to spend some effort in blasting them down. With my super strength I hurled spear after spear from each hand in quick succession, seeing if I could overwhelm or at least match his beams.

To my side I saw a gate appear under the shielded bogeyman which she dropped through, the shield dissipating a moment after. Eidolon evidently got a moment free with his focus on protecting her eased, as Ranger was forced to dodge a purple sphere that seemed to draw in everything in a short area around it and hold it against the ground.

“Hierophant!” Tattletale shouted from one of the alley entrances, in as much cover as she could get considering the close quarters and powers on display. “As many different types of magic as you can!”

I heard Masego mutter something demeaning about Jacquinite magic as he started weaving magic around Eidolon, Warlock seemingly catching on and doing the same with something that looked distinctly different. I was no spellslinger though, so the importance of the differences were lost on me.

Ranger ducked under a fist, the wall behind her collapsing inward from the force of the blow. Alexandria lifted off the ground, swinging a kick for the half-elf even as she kicked off the collapsing wall. Ranger flicked her blade up, her blade only a finger’s breadth from her face when it swatted the rubble aside. She took a glancing blow from the kick, thrown down into the ground, the concrete cracking beneath her. She rolled even as she hit the ground, avoiding the follow up and getting back to her feet, casually brushing some dust from her cloak.

My assault against Legend was proving to be ineffective. The initial flurry of spears had managed to get him to pause for a moment, but he had quickly overwhelmed my projectiles. Frankly, I doubted I could best him here. He had too much speed and firepower for me to match. Even if he couldn’t put me down, I’d be hard pressed to land a solid blow on him either. My ice collapsed under the increasing barrage of beams as Legend zig-zagged down to assist Eidolon and Alexandria, lasers firing into both of their fights to give them a window.

I decided not to let him do it uncontested as teleported next to Alexandria, figuring Ranger would be able to make the most use of a narrow window of opportunity. I found myself kicked through one of the few remaining walls that had previously formed that alleyway. Mostly unharmed, I furrowed my brow in confusion. The kick hadn’t come from Alexandria, which meant...

“Interfere again and die,” Ranger growled, the weight of her presence turned towards me as she glared through the shattered wall. Not even Black of Malicia had summoned the sheer presence I felt from her, almost all of it sharpened into murderous intention. Alexandria had no scruples with taking a swing for the woman and their fight resumed. I shook my head, taking a deep breath in. 

_Pretty sure trying to change her mind would get me stabbed, so Eidolon it is._

I spied the man in the green costume hunkered down behind a series of tiny rotating cubes which seemed to intercept incoming attacks with a diffuse sort of beam. I teleported next to him and found myself covered with the beams. They didn’t hurt, but my danger sense went off immediately, growing the longer they pointed at me. I erected shields of ice and charged the man, a barrage of light from above blasting me back as I barely raised my shield in time. I cursed and threw a spear made from the ground to little effect.

This melee was too evenly matched. The alleyway had practically dissolved, the buildings that had formed it half ruined and hollowed out by stray and deflected attacks. The battlefield was expanding and we had no reinforcements coming. Judging from how prepared for us they were it meant that they likely did. If we stayed much longer we risked getting bogged down in the local heroes.

I dashed over to Tattletale, who was taking cover behind an increasingly small section of wall, handgun in one hand, cellphone in the other as it was pressed up against her ear.

“-need you here now. No, Faultline and Labyrinth already fled. No, my mercs are being pinned down by the PRT. Find a way-”

“Tattletale,” I said, giving her a look as I drew up some more concrete with the powers of the Butcher, reinforcing her wall since it was one of the few pieces of cover she had left.

“-put Grue back on Regent or I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass-”

“Tattletale!” I half shouted.

She glanced up from the phone. “What? The rest of the Undersiders are tied down.”

“Did the plan not work?” I half whispered, keeping an eye on the fight as the various magic users expanded out with the widening battlefield. Masego was using the debris to his advantage, setting up spell arrays that went off from unpredictable angles, while Warlock had begun to start wholesale blasting it out with Legend.

She shook her head. “No, it’s working, but they got delayed. Buy us time until they get here. Throw some rubble to the south east, block up the streets if you can. Then we can fall back through the portal.”

“Got it. I don’t think Ranger will fall back with us,” I added.

“Great, she’ll make a fantastic distraction for us to get away. If she survives, she can track us down. She’s the Ranger right? Sounds like someone with good tracking. Also, not my monkey, which is even better,” she said, the stress slipping into her voice just a bit.

I just gave her a quick nod and teleported back into the fray, aiming my explosive entry for Legend again. Ultimately Masego and Warlock were the two powerhouses here. They had the versatility to counter Eidolon and Legend, while I had the durability to dart up into their face and keep their focus on me. As much as each moment was a tenuous balance, with both our side and theirs constantly trying new tactics, it was also a steady ebb and flow. 

I could feel the shape of the fight, how each time one side would gain a toehold, it would slip away just as fast. It was a familiar feeling, one that I was slowly getting a handle for. There was a Story at work here and our fight wasn’t ready to finish yet. There were conditions that needed to be met before the scene could continue. Of course, it wasn’t as concrete as it sounded. A simple mistake could have one of us cut down, and regardless of the shape of the current story the fight would likely end with the delicate balance broken. It was a wind in your sails or left you stuck in the doldrums and your fortune could change just as rapidly as a sailor’s fortune.

I suspected that, and Masego had given a preliminary confirmation pending further study, it would be an even weaker force here. More malleable change and external meddling. Tattletale and I had agreed if the Triumvirate showed and it looked like a safe victory wasn’t feasible we’d fall back to Calernia where they’d be both at a disadvantage and also stepping into a stronger story.

Legend nearly got through the ice I had erected around Masego and Warlock at their request, which they used both as defensive cover and also as a reagent for another set of spells. I could’ve reinforced the ice, but Tattletale had wanted me to sow some destruction to the south east. I tore off large chunks, using my Butcher powers to lob them at Legend while also aiming past him for some streets in the distance. At a glance they looked empty, which I had to assume was probably accurate. If fights like this were commonplace in Bet, a means of evacuation had to be well established for civilians.

Glancing down and back, I noticed that Alexandria and Ranger had both moved out of sight. I hadn’t seen them go near the portal in the last few minutes, so it was unlikely Ranger had pulled her through. Instead the wake of destruction in the opposite direction indicated that their battle had picked up in intensity and was steadily pulling further away. I had to wonder if that was Ranger’s or Alexandria’s plan, or perhaps both for different reasons. Neither seemed the type of combatant to let their battle change location without having a purpose for it.

My analysis was interrupted as I spotted a figure flying towards me from the rubble. Alexandria approached at a speed that put my own haphazard means of throwing myself around and calling it flying to shame. I stood on a platform of raised ice as she slowed almost instantly in front of me. Her costume was wrecked, several long cuts across her torso that oozed blood, but weren’t bleeding quite normally either.

“You beat Ranger?” I asked, cautious and curious.

Alexandria scowled. “No. But that’s irrelevant, she’s enjoying Siberia at the moment.”

I had no idea what that meant, but it meant not only was Ranger alive, but she had pushed Alexandria hard enough that she had pulled some sort of trick to cut the fight short. That was good, it meant our monsters could go toe to toe with their monsters, at least sometimes. There had been an initial assumption, which Masego had been the one to point out, that the powers of each world were roughly equal. In reality, we had an incredibly small sample size, as he referred to it, and couldn’t be sure that it held true at the extreme ends of the scale.

“I take it by the lack of face punching that you got hurt badly enough to reconsider diplomacy,” I replied, giving her a smile.

“We can not give up the portal Squire. You don’t understand how much hinges on it,” she said evenly, not denying my claim, but also not opening up a channel to talk.

I sighed, frustrated. “Did you consider telling me? You’ve spouted vague warnings of doom twice. We’re both reasonable people. Probably. We haven’t knifed each other yet.”

“Neither of us _can_ be knifed,” she said drily. 

“And that makes for some great common ground to start. I admit, I’m not too fond of how you handled...well pretty much any part of this, but at this rate we’re going to ruin half this city contesting the portal. I imagine that’s not ideal for you,” I continued, putting a toe in the diplomacy pond to test the temperature.

“_You_ were the ones who attacked first,” she remarked, staring me down.

“You threatened my friends,” I answered.

“Your friends are wanted criminals,” she countered.

“Most of my favorite people are, or should be if anyone found out what they actually did,” I replied truthfully.

She let out a short sigh of impatience. “This was a mistake. I see your world is filled with the same bands of petty thugs who think having a big stick makes them qualified to lead.”

Turns out the temperature of the pond was ice cold. Well, no one could say I hadn’t tried at least. Though I had the feeling I’d be blamed if the city burned down regardless. Of course she was going to treat me like I wasn’t worth her time just because I didn’t fit her ideals perfectly. I cracked my knuckles, and then my neck.

“Seems like heroes are the same bunch of thick-headed self righteous assholes here too, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

That’s when she punched me.


	48. 4.7a - Third Person Omniscient, also known as a Cat

****

###  **4.7a - Third Person Omniscient, also known as a Cat**

“All dogs go to heaven. All Cats go wherever they please,”

  * Graffiti found in the War College, on Rat Company supplies

A cat laid down to rest outside the Tower, bedding underneath a merchant’s shop where she had slept for several seasons now. The grain and foodstuffs that the merchant peddled had attracted rodents with good regularity and she had been fortunate to claim the spot as her own. She had defended it well, marking her territory and pushing back against interlopers. She had given birth to two litters, had raised her kittens in the safety and warmth of the merchant’s cellars to adulthood.

Now she was alone. Her kittens long since grown, her fur ragged and patchy, she no longer felt comfortable in the cold winds of the night while out on a hunt. Not that she had hunted in some days now, her energy was low and rest had done little to restore her health. Chasing prey, even the easy prey that was lured by the scent of wheat and tubers, was far too difficult now. Perhaps things would be better on the morrow.

She laid her head down, curling up between some of the sacks, hidden from all who might wander down into the cellar, and went to sleep.

She woke and her fatigue was gone. She felt light, unrestrained. She had forgotten this feeling, the feeling of not being bound by wounded bones and scarred muscles. The aches that she had stopped noticing seasons ago were gone, a relief she hadn’t known to hope for. Perhaps today she could hunt, or venture across the city far enough to find some of her children. Both had been too strenuous in her condition before.

She looked about, looking down on the city of Ater. The sprawled, semi-chaotic structure of the city conflicting with the sub-sections that followed rules made by Dread Emperors long dead. Each one different from every other at that. The Tower itself stood fierce and independent as ever.

As she wondered how she would get down from the middle of the air to hunt, perhaps she could flap her paws, a being leaned down from above, the sensation of light passing over and through her catching her attention. The being did not speak the way humans did, it’s face did not move and the air did hum, yet it was heard.

“Hello little one. It is time to come with me,” it said.

“Meorw?” she asked.

“Well it’s a recent change, in the grand scale of things, but yes, cats do have souls.”

“Meow?”

“As do many other animals yes, though not all.”

“Meow.”

“No, they belong to Below.”

The cat was satisfied with this. Not everything could be perfect, she would’ve liked to have seen her children again, but this was good. There would be more for her, a life beyond life. A place for the missing things to go. It hurt her a little to know she was now a piece of life that was missing, like many of her siblings, but this was still good.

“Mreow?”

“Yes, you do get a choice actual-” the creature fritzed, gaze both on her and not on her at once. “-one moment, technical difficulties are occurring.”

The creature felt something pass over its form, peering and leering at it in an unseemly way. Nothing of reverence or awe, not fear or terror, but an analytical look as if it were being sized up. The creature looked further and saw that the leering came from a tear in the very fabric of the world, one that connected to another. Not an altogether unusual feature in these parts, but this one was strange, the threads of Creation stretched and deformed in hideous ways to bridge half the gap. The other dimension similarly mauled, almost reaching the middle as well. A third influence, one entirely foreign to the creature’s knowledge, had tied them together across the unknowing and unfathomable void.

The creature pondered, something many of its brethren were incapable of. But it was meant to interact, to guide, and to answer. It was given the capacity for consideration and pondering, while being preserved as a mechanism of the heavens. And so it thought. The gulf between the two dimensions, stretched thin as they were, should never have been connected. Despite being such a small gap, it was an immutable one. These things were absolutes, set by the Gods themselves. Therefore a breach should be escalated to the highest of authorities it had access to.

The creature sent its pondering up to the Choir of Judgement, who examined the thoughts, stood before them in their might, and judged them important. Seeking out the interloper, the Choir felt its leering, staring gaze as it swept across them, slowing as it did. The Choir saw this and Judged it, pushing it back through the bridge between worlds. The interloper stared at the Judgement from within it’s hidey hole, examining their world through the gap.

The Choir of Judgement determined that this was now out of their jurisdiction. This was not a mortal that challenged the Heavens, nor an agent of Below. A Judgement was sent up the hierarchy, directly to the Gods Above.

The Gods Above, in their infinite existence and resplendence, casually smote the interloper.

The interloper refused to be smote, shifting around the dimension of the attack.

They instead crafted a veil, a mirror of the world connected, with subtle changes in fundamental parameters, placing it over the connection. To filter and deny this stranger’s insatiable gaze while they considered a different course of action. A determined smoting would not only destroy the interloper, but the concepts attached to it. First, they needed to ensure the safety of Creation before such action was taken. The Gods Above had words with the Gods Below, inquiring if this was something of their ilk.

The Gods Below denied any involvement, equally curious as to the interloper as their counterparts. This was not part of the Wager, and so both sides were free to investigate as their inherent nature drove them to.

What they found was not just a single interloper, but a multitude. The first had been the most brazen, but the rest began to trickle through the connection. On the other side sat a multitude of worlds, where creatures similar to the ones of Creation existed. And much like their creatures, these were host to a number of abilities. They reached out to examine these interlopers, these shards of a greater whole, and found their metaphorical fingers singed. The strangers were not without defenses.

The Gods Above and Below prepared for a conflict that they had only experienced once. The one that had driven the creation of the Wager, to stop the struggle between themselves. Now, where there had only ever been two, there was a third.

\---

Across the portal, the shard withdrew its scanning eye as it was threatened and very nearly damaged. Inter-dimensional attacks full of new and exotic effects had been aimed at it. Only through rapid simulation of thousands of possibilities had it escaped unharmed. Each attack giving it data that had allowed it to see just enough ahead to escape the next. It needed more data on this new, novel source.

The shard sent out bolts of communication to everything within reach. It would acquire more data, it would find out the boundaries of this new world and assimilate their information into itself. It got replies from other shards, returns on its query. Others had been touched, had been seen, by the outsiders.

One of them had high priority, even as it was left dead and drifting, its hub silent and void. It continued to send alerts, six thousand and seven hundred and twenty three per second, to the alternative hub. None of the alerts were received, the connection had not worked since it was broken. The shard adjusted, adapted. It had options beyond most shards in the dead network, even decaying and drifting as it was.

It did not have the tools, but it had parts it could access which had the tools it needed. Adjustments were sent out, directives added, priorities shifted. Investigation would be performed, queries made, by parts of the whole that still worked, that lived enough to perhaps be able to do something with it.

In orbit, the Simurgh moved.

\---

The cat felt the creature return its attention to her. With it came affection and warmth, the promise of comfort and home. The sound of kittens playing and the sensation of a summer's breeze on freshly cleaned fur.

“Apologies for the delay, let us depart,” the voice said.

The cat followed.

A/N: Originally had a different perspective for this Interlude planned, but I really liked Elcyion's (SV) idea of a Narrator Interlude. Not quite the same thing, but it was good inspiration for reformatting this.


End file.
